An Oath to Mida

12 A journey is begun—and a secret is learned

The fey had not yet truly begun when we left Ceralt’s dwelling. A deep cold rode the air heavily, but the lack of wind left the cold bearable. Some few light clouds floated upon the still-dark sky, and white breath-streams flew from our noses and mouths as we crunched along upon the mounded snow. So lightly and so gently had the snow fallen, yet it had in some manner hardened upon the ground so that one might walk upon it, yet this hardness was not to be found everywhere. As I moved slowly and carefully between Telion and Ceralt, my hands covered by leather and fur in a device termed “gloves,” my fur-clad right foot suddenly penetrated the snow mound to mid-calf depth. Had Ceralt not quickly grasped my arm to steady me, I would surely have sprawled upon the hard, treacherous snow, unknowing victim to its snares. I retrieved my foot and steadied my stance, and we continued across the nearly empty village toward the lanthay enclosure, yet I no longer looked about me at the skies and dwellings. My gaze was solely for where I put my feet, and I no longer found innocence in the whiteness of the snow.

The lanthay enclosure was as well tenanted as the rest of the village was empty, for two hands of males and a like number of females awaited us amid lanthay which were either heavily laden or bridled in preparation to be ridden. Ceralt greeted the males cheerfully then looked about himself, seemingly seeking one who was not there. I knew not who he might be seeking till further crunching sounds came, and all turned to observe the arrival of Lialt, accompanied by a saddened Tarla. Lialt paused a length from the enclosure to give Tarla his lips, then left her to stand alone as he came up to us.

“I am now prepared to depart,” he announced as he entered the enclosure. “Why do you all stand about here as though there is time to be wasted?”

Upon hearing this, the males laughed aloud, and Ceralt shook his head with a grin. “We await the arrival of one who has grown too fond of his furs,” he informed Lialt and folded his arms. “Should our Pathfinder have become too old and infirm to arrive at an appointed time, perhaps it would be best if he were left behind us.”

“All bow to the will of the High Rider,” Lialt intoned solemnly, his light eyes in no way embarrassed, “yet without the Pathfinder, the High Rider may well find himself riding in circles. Should this be his wish, who am I to oppose him?”

Lialt’s deference was betrayed by the gleam of amusement he showed, and Ceralt laughed aloud and clapped his shoulder.

“The Serene Oneness protect me from those who will not oppose me,” he chuckled. “Take yourself to your lanthay, brother, and let us be on our way before the mid-fey meal is upon us.”

Lialt returned the grin and the shoulder clap, and all within the enclosure then sought mounts, a doing which proved most interesting. The males, I knew, were well acquainted with the white-furred lanthay, yet the females proved to be much in awe of them. Clad in the leathers of males, they stood about staring nervously at the enormous mounts, obviously filled with little desire for taking seat upon any of them. The males each caught up the rein of a lanthay and gestured their females to them, and then began a battle consisting of calming the lanthay, calming the female, quieting the lanthay to be mounted, and raising the females to their backs. One or two males accomplished this easily, yet most found the need to call down the wrath of Sigurr upon the heads of lanthay and female alike. Males cursed, lanthay squealed and reared, females howled and backed, and I laughed as I had not laughed in many a fey. The males, in imagined superiority, had kept their females from a knowledge of riding, and now reaped what they had sown. Warriors were not well thought of by village males, yet warriors would not have feared the nearness of the beasts.

“Best you quiet that braying and get yourself mounted,” Telion said quietly as he handed me the rein of a lanthay. “Ceralt sees no humor in this fiasco, and would not take kindly to your amusement. Though I must admit that I have rarely seen anything funnier.”

The male warrior looked down upon me with a grin fixed well upon his face, and we both laughed at the shouting and screaming and churning of snow. All about us was a true bedlam, and Ceralt worked feverishly to quiet all concerned. Of those who stood about, including Lialt, he directed the temporary pairing with a male who could not get his female mounted. The two working together, one to hold the lanthay, one to lift the female, soon saw all of the females upon the backs of mounts, and males at last sought their own mounts, wiping sweat from foreheads with hands which seemed much wearier than previous. I turned to the lanthay I had been given, grasped its fur in both hands, then vaulted to its back with very little effort. The lanthay danced beneath me as I sought and found a proper seat, and Ceralt stalked angrily back to take possession of his own mount.

“Curse Hannil and his insistances!” he muttered darkly as he leapt to the back of his lanthay. “Wenches must be brought, yet they cannot be ridden behind their men lest their presence prove catastrophic should the need to fight arise! Were this journey not so desperately urgent, I would send those wenches straight back to their hearths, damn me if I would not!”

He then jerked upon his rein so hard that his lanthay squealed and reared, yet truthfully, I could not fault him for his anger. The females, now mounted, were no less a problem than they had been. They clung fearfully to the fur of the lanthay, most bent over, some sobbing their fear aloud, and it was easily seen that they would be unable to ride or control the beasts through their own efforts. The males looked about at one another helplessly, then wearily dismounted and began bringing pack lanthay forward. To each female’s left a pack lanthay was secured to the neck of the lanthay she rode, and then the males remounted and moved their own lanthay to the right of their females. In such a way were they able to lead both pack lanthay and female’s lanthay, and the female was somewhat comforted by the presence of more than the hard, distant ground to either side of her. Lialt rode ahead to open a gate in the far side of the enclosure, and the sky began to show the first touches of pink as the last of us rode through. I rode beside Telion, who sat upon his own lanthay, and had turned to look behind me only long enough to raise an arm in farewell to Tarla, who had climbed the enclosure to watch our departure. Tarla had raised her own arm, shyly and with reluctance, and had wept and left her place when Lialt had touched his palm to his lips to her. Lialt looked longingly after her a moment, then closed the enclosure and rode with Telion and me, and the journey so often spoke of by so many was finally, if not quite easily, begun.

The fey grew clear and bright, the skies pale blue above us, the snow blindingly white beneath the hooves of our lanthay. A good deal of the cold was dispelled by the motions of riding, with some assistance from Mida’s light, and the lanthay proved a not unattractive beast. Instantly responsive to the touch of knees and rein, the lanthay was a delight to the experienced rider, as well as a welcome comfort. The beast’s thick covering of fur was far superior to the gando’s scales and the kan’s hide, yet Telion did not seem to share my enjoyment of the lanthay. The male warrior sat his mount surely, yet obviously unaccustomed to the lack of a leather seat such as kand were wont to be provided with, and from time to time muttered a regretful word or two about the kan he had left behind in the village. I spoke no word of my own, being too well pleased with the snow-covered forest about us and the increased feeling of freedom to wish to be drawn away from them, and we continued on through the snow and the trees and the fey, till a halt was called for the mid-fey meal.

The fall of darkness found us already encamped. Though the fey had been a pleasant one for me, few of the others of our party had found it so. The halt for the mid-fey meal had been filled with wailing from the females and attempts at soothing from the males, yet even soothing had not allowed the miserable wenches to ride till Mida’s light had gone. Stiff and sore, they wept and begged to have the ride over, and their males, with weary agreement from Ceralt, had chosen a snow-covered clearing and erected strange-shaped tents. The tents of Midanna are circular, with spires rising from the near flatness of their roofs, yet the males used tents which were more triangular than circular, with each section having the ability to stand alone and house two, or be joined with one or more others and house many. The males of Ceralt’s party chose to stand their tents singly, only Ceralt and Lialt combining their tents with Telion’s to make a larger one, and in very little time, the weeping females had been led within shelter. I was somewhat tempted to feel pity for the females, yet scorn for their weakness and helplessness rose too far to the fore. These village females wept and moaned and cried of tortures forced upon them, yet they knew naught of what true torture meant. That which had set them weeping and groaning was no more than every-time doing to a Midanna, and this was not all that set them apart from a warrior. To so easily show weakness seemed a part of village slave-women, and no shame appeared to attach itself to them over such humiliating actions. Shame, I knew, touched all in different ways, yet how was it possible to cling so tightly to a male and weep so helplessly, and not be touched by shame? I knew not where to find the answers I sought, and knew not even if I wished to find them, for somehow the matter seemed more complex than one would expect it to be.

“You seem quite intolerant of the delicacy of the other wenches,” Ceralt said, looking down upon me with something of anger in his eyes. “Since you do not share their delicacy and infirmities, you may now take our lanthay and tie them to the ramuda string. Later, I shall also allow you to feed them.”

My chin rose high at the hateful edge to his voice, and sooner would I have walked the lines for the Silla a second time than speak of my own need for warmth and rest. Without comment, I took Telion’s rein and Ceralt’s and Lialt’s as well, added them to the rein of my own lanthay, and walked from the males toward the string of leather which had been hung between two of the trees. All of the other lanthay had been tied to that string or two others set about the camp and they stood where they had been set with heads down and hooves scratching at the snow, seeking that which might be fed upon. I, myself, had the habit of seeing to my mount’s comfort before my own, yet the males of the party had merely tied their mounts and unburdened them before hurrying to the sides of their females. For a journey of great importance, the entire thing seemed ill-omened and ill-conceived, and I could not envision success with so poor a beginning. I tied the lanthay securely upon the line, giving them leather enough to lower their heads, then left them to their useless foraging. The light was low in the skies, and no other appeared to sight about the camp, therefore I paused some steps before the entrance to Ceralt’s tent to rub at the throbbing in my left thigh. As I stood close up beside the tent wall, it was then that I heard the voice of Telion from within.

“Ceralt. I shall say what I must say before she returns,” I heard, no humor to the tone of the male warrior. “I know not what has occurred between the two of you, but I tell you now that should you continue to treat her so, she shall soon grow to hate the very sight of you.”

A brief silence passed after the words of Telion, and then Ceralt spoke, quietly and with a great weariness. “She has already grown to hate me,” he said quite simply, “and that is exactly what I wish her to do.”

“But, why, man?” Telion burst out, with a bewilderment to match my own. “She had begun to feel love for you, a love I thought would match yours for her! Why do you now seek her hate?”

“It is all rather simple,” Ceralt replied, and I felt that he held his voice even only through effort. “Lialt has searched the Snows many times since my return from Ranistard, and each time he searches, the more convinced he becomes—there is almost no chance of my living to return from Sigurr’s Altar, yet Jalav will live—and continue to thrive. Had I allowed her love to grow as I so achingly wished to do, she would have been left to mourn and grieve for me—and even, perhaps, to seek vengeance for my death—and that I will not have. I now humiliate and shame her in every way I might so that pleasure will come to her at my death, not pain. Such an end is worth the price I pay.”

“This cannot be so!” Telion protested, and I heard the sound of movement. “And even should it be true, it makes no sense! What if you should live after all? And what is to become of the wench should you die?”

“Both questions have already been seen to,” Ceralt replied with a short laugh. “If I live, I will then attempt to make some sort of reparation for the difficulty I have given her. If reviving her love proves impossible, I will then do what I have charged Lialt to do in the event of my death—find a man who is capable of giving her kindness she can accept, and a life which will be gentle for her. I will not have her returning to her former life of blood and battle, and my cruelty will have one beneficial aspect—she will soon yearn desperately for a kind word or look, and will cling to any man who gives her that. In such a way will she accept the man chosen for her.”

I could not believe the words I heard, and I stood numb in the growing wind, knowing not which way to turn my thoughts. I had never felt this—“love”—for Ceralt, yet—Ceralt was to die? And I was not to be allowed to mourn or avenge him? The shame he had given me was deliberate, his actions to a purpose, for he was to die?

“Ceralt,” began Telion slowly, “there are things which you do not know, and therefore cannot have taken into account. You must change your tactics with the wench, for I now understand why she sought to goad me into destroying her.”

“Destroying her?” Ceralt barked, and sounds of sharp movement came. “What do you speak of?”

“Gently,” Telion soothed, and again there were soft sounds. “You know well enough that I would not harm her, yet she caused a madness in me that nearly took her life. I shall not speak of that which she used to produce the madness, yet you have my word that the action was deliberate. She desperately sought not the kindness you spoke of, but the death we both know she was pressed to seek once before.”

“Death,” Ceralt echoed, an illness clear in his voice. “Why in the name of the Serene Oneness must she seek death rather than kindness?”

“Perhaps because she has been led to believe that kindness does not exist,” Telion replied heavily. “You asked me once of the lashing she had at the hands of Galiose, and I turned the talk to other things rather than speak of the matter, yet now I feel the time has come to speak of it. Ceralt, she was given twenty-five strokes of the heavy lash, and then she was given to a Captain of the Palace Guard named Nolthis, a man known to all save Galiose as one who broke women to his will, one who took great delight in shattering them. It was Inala who freed her from Nolthis, and even now it sickens me to recall Inala’s words of how he kept our black-haired wench. Should I ever again lay eyes upon this Nolthis, I will speak to him with swords of my feeling for him.”

“Galiose,” Ceralt choked, and a dull, heavy thud came. “Galiose and Galiose and Galiose! The thing between us grows larger and larger with each new thing I learn! Twenty-five blows of the heavy lash! Given to a Guardsman who delighted in her torture! Ah, Jalav mine, how did such a thing come to be?”

“And then she became yours,” Telion continued, remorselessly. “I know not how she came to obey you; however I do know that she sought death at my hands. She once had trust in me, looked upon me as a brother warrior despite my being-male, yet now, in her eyes, I am no other thing than male, a thing to be hated and distrusted. How well have your plans gone, brother? Once free of you, she will never mourn any male, no matter what kindness he shows her. She will spit upon his kindness and his lifeless corpse as well.”

A sound came from Ceralt, a sound I could not put name to, yet a sound which most often came with the thrusting of one’s sword into another’s belly. I turned from the sound and the tent and the males, and made my way back to the tree near which the lanthay were tied, and crouched down beside the tree, resting my shoulder upon it. No more than a small part of the sky remained light, and the wind sought to open my garments to the caress of the cold, yet I crouched in the darkness, huddled into my fur, and fought to clear my mind.

Ceralt was to die. This, above all things, stood out so clearly, though I knew not why it should. I hated the male, hated the very thought of him, so why did I not rejoice at the thought of his death? He had shamed me and humiliated me many times over, had stolen the vows which made me his slave, had denied to me all that had ever had meaning, and yet thought of his death did not bring me joy. This, then was the loss Lialt had once spoken of, the loss which Ceralt had laughed at. Ceralt was to die, and Lialt already mourned, and I was to rejoice at my coming freedom, then gladly embrace the male of Lialt’s choice. My hands in my fur gloves turned to fists, and I pounded upon my knees in voiceless fury. How I hated the male Ceralt for seeking to send me to another, how I hated him for the shame he had so deliberately heaped upon me—and how deeply I mourned the loss which was destined to be. My head bowed low as my arms went about my middle, and I knew not what in the wide world to do.

Some short while after the fall of full darkness, various of the males appeared to tend to the feeding of the lanthay, and also to the setting of guard posts. I remained crouched beside the tree, seeing the flames within boxes which the males carried to the lanthay, and still I knew not what there was to be done. Was I to speak of that which I had learned, or keep silent? If I chose to speak of it, to whom would I speak? These questions and others filled all of my mind, and were put aside only upon hearing the crunch of snow beside me. I looked up from where I crouched to see Lialt, who gazed down upon me with something of disapproval.

“Has it taken you all this time merely to tie the lanthay?” he demanded, the wind playing with his words. “Why have you not come to the tent?”

“I was told I was also to feed the lanthay,” I replied, not wishing to discuss my thoughts with this male who so often disapproved of me. I stood straight to face him, and the darkness about us howled with the cold.

“I will feed the lanthay,” said he, narrowing his eyes somewhat. “Ceralt wishes you within the tent before the cold sucks the life from you. Get you there now and do not dawdle.”

I met his eyes as he spoke, and though I said no words in return, the knowledge came to him that it was not he who was to be obeyed, for anger touched him as I turned away. He did not call after me as I walked toward the tent, and this seemed strange as I could not walk quickly upon my left leg, yet I dismissed the thought as I reached the tent and entered.

Within the thick, overlapped entrance, a welcome warmth was to be found. The tent, perhaps three paces by four in area, of a height great enough for the males to stand erect across most of it, made of tan leather upon the outside, was white-furred within, both walls and floor, and was lit by a number of small boxes with flames. At the far side of the tent and to the left of the opening flap, stood two knee-high boxes of thin, light metal, each filled with dull black stones which glowed red with the heat of the fire within them. Some of the black stones had begun turning gray, and the pleasurable warmth came from these two sources. I pushed back the hood of my fur body covering and began removing the devices called gloves so that I might open the body covering, and Ceralt looked up at me from where he sat to the left, back toward the far wall.

“It should not have taken you so long to see to the lanthay,” he informed me, something of Lialt’s disapproval in his tone as well. “This cold is not the sort one stays out in unnecessarily, and I do not wish to see you fall ill. Remove the furs and your boots, and come here.”

Not knowing what reply might be made, I made none, doing no more than glancing toward Telion, who sat cross-legged to the right, oiling his sword, before doing as Ceralt had bid. My body and leg furs I left beside the flap before going to Ceralt, and walking was much the easier without the weight of the leg furs upon my feet. The feel of the fur beneath the hand which had raised me erect spoke of lanthay as its source, showing that those of the villages used more of the beasts than their backs. The thought of doing the same with gandod was amusing, yet the amusement turned quickly to startlement when Ceralt reached up without warning and threw me to the fur beside him.

“You have, as yet, no true knowledge of this cold,” said he, taking my right foot in both of his hands and beginning to rub it. Strangely, at first I could not feel the rubbing, and then the feeling returned with a rush of stabbing needles, as though I had knelt upon the foot too long, and I moved uncomfortably in his grip, unable to extricate the foot.

“Even through the boots, your feet will become frost-bitten if you stand in the snow too long,” said Ceralt, finishing with the right foot and then taking the left. “In this weather, you are to do what you must as quickly as possible, and return to the warmth as soon as may be. Do you understand?”

As he then had my left foot, I was able to do no more than nod in response to his question. The brisk rubbing not only awakened painful life in my foot, but echoed and reinforced the ache in my thigh. I showed none of the pain I felt, yet it was a near thing. Beads of moisture grew upon my forehead, and I had grasped the lanthay fur in both fists before I was finally released.

“You may now cook and serve our meal,” Ceralt allowed, leaning back in the fur to reach to the place where he had put his sword. It was not the same sword which had hung upon the wall of his dwelling, yet his gentle touch upon the weapon clearly showed his fondness for it. He took as well a soft cloth and a small pot of oil, and I raised myself slowly from the furs and went to the packs of gear which had been placed at the back of the tent. With no eyes upon me, I was able to wipe the sweat away, then search for the meat which was to be our provender. Mid-fey meal had been cooked, dry meat, much like leather, and had I had the choice, I would have done better without.

Cooking the meat above the hot, black stones was not like cooking upon a fire, and Lialt had long since returned before the provender was edible to the males. Ceralt divided the meat in three, and I felt the heavy touch of annoyance upon realizing that I was again to share his; the need for obedience was a constantly grating noose about the neck of my dignity and clan position. War leaders of the Midanna were not raised to be slave-women to males.

Telion accepted his provender with no more than a grunt of pleasure, yet Lialt eyed me in a strange manner before I turned from him. I knew not what the strangeness meant, and had taken two steps from him when suddenly he spoke.

“Woman, remove your leggings,” said he, a snap of annoyance to his tone. “I have no doubt that you said not a word!”

I halted in the middle of the lanthay fur, making no attempt to turn toward him for I felt I now knew what his look had meant, yet Ceralt raised his head from the meat and sent an inquiring gaze toward his brother. Lialt made a clear sound of annoyance, and shifted where he sat.

“Have you not seen how she favors her left leg?” he demanded of the others, confirming my suspicions. “The foolish wench has undoubtedly strained the healing wounds, yet stubbornly refuses to speak of it! Does she seek to cripple herself permanently?”

Ceralt had straightened where he sat, anger in his light eyes, and he threw the hair back from those eyes with a shake of his head, fastening his gaze upon me.

“It appears that she is again ruled by that misbegotten pride her kind seem to favor,” he replied to Lialt, yet his words were also for me. “I will see that pride forgotten by her, to be replaced with common sense, else I shall see to its removal myself. For this, Jalav, you have my word. Remove the leggings and return to Lialt.”

His anger was familiar, yet my own anger was a full match to it. I stood in the lanthay fur, my hands turned to fists, and looked down into the blaze of his eyes.

“The insolence of males!” I hissed, fury growing high within me. “Is a sense of dignity to be yours alone, jealously denied to any who cannot also be called male? In what manner are you harmed when I choose not to speak of what pain I may feel? That Mida knows of my pain is sufficient, for it is she who brings healing, not Lialt and his salves and potions! I am a Hosta warrior, a war leader of Mida, and my pride in such is beyond your ability to take! You may draw your blade and take my life, male, yet my dignity is mine!”

Ceralt seemed taken by frowning surprise at my outburst, yet by the time my words were complete, he no longer remained seated as he had been. He stood before me, tall and strong, and the feel of his fingers in my arms was much like the grasp of metal.

“Why must you be so ignorant a savage?” he demanded, shaking me at the urging of his anger. “Why do you not yet know that never would I raise a weapon to harm you? Why have you not yet realized that your precious Mida moved not a single finger in your defense when you faced those other savage wenches, yet Lialt strove through light and darkness, forgoing his sleep and sustenance, straining his abilities to the limit, to coax forth that tiny spark of life which was all that remained to you?” His hands ceased their shaking, his eyes filled with pain, and his voice, which had been so full of anger, became no more than a hoarse whisper. “And when will you become as other women, sharing your pain with me so that I may soothe it? When will you show a need for me, a need beyond that of the furs? Your sense of dignity disallows such things, and I am to accept it?” His voice choked then, and the desolation in his eyes was swept away by the shaking of his head, as though he shook sleep from him. “It is idle to discuss such things, idle even to think upon them. Remove your leggings and go to Lialt, and no more backtalk from you.”

He thrust me back toward Lialt then, with little anger, yet his strength was such that I nearly tripped in the lanthay fur from the thrust. He returned to the place he had chosen to sit amid silence from the other males, and I, too, could think of no further words. When speaking with Midanna, it was ever clear that those who spoke all spoke of the same matter, yet speech with males was a time of confusion, for males were wont to speak of things far distant from that which a warrior expected. From pain to pride was an easy step, yet how was one to go from pain to need? As I slowly removed the leg coverings from me, the constant confusion I felt among males swelled greatly, attempting to swirl my mind away with lack of understanding. How was a warrior to deal with males, when their very thoughts were beyond all rational bounds?

“As you are about it,” said Ceralt, taking my thoughts from a place of spinning, “remove the balance of your garments as well. A man’s leather may be necessary for the journey, yet it has no place here in my tent.”

I looked upon him then and he returned the look, yet there was no further trace of the anger and dismay he had shown but a few moments earlier. He meant no more than to command his slave and see himself obeyed, and would not allow the matter to be discussed. With lips tightened to a line of anger, I turned from him again and commenced the removal of the balance of the leathers, knowing only that the fey of my freedom was inevitably approaching. Upon its arrival, this matter and others would be well seen to. When all of my garments lay thrown to one side, Lialt put his meat aside and gestured me closer. He had earlier gone to the packs at the rear of the tent, and had returned with a covered pot which seemed familiar. As I stood before him, he uncovered the pot to show a pink liquid, thick yet thin enough to flow slowly, and I knew the why of the pot’s familiarity. Ceralt had once used the pot’s contents upon me, just as Lialt now placed his fingers within the liquid, then raised them covered to my thigh. The liquid seemed cool to my flesh, yet a moment of gentle rubbing removed the coolness and also somehow eased the ache in my thigh. Lialt looked critically upon the other tracks of Silla spears, added the pink liquid to those he disliked, then took a cloth upon which he might wipe his hands.

“She should now rest,” said he to Ceralt, reclaiming his provender and biting from it. “With her wounds as recently healed as they are, the journey will not be easy for her.”

Ceralt nodded and looked upon me sourly. “The journey would be less difficult for any other wench in her place,” said he, his eyes for some reason impatient. “Jalav being Jalav, the difficulties will surely increase. Place yourself there, wench, belly down and lying still.”

The other males chuckled at Ceralt’s words, yet I was able to see no humor in them, nor was I able to find approval in his command. The place to which I had been directed was in the midst of the males, and my reluctance as I lay flat in the lanthay fur was great indeed. I did not care to be in the midst of the males, belly down and unclothed before them, no more than a pace from any of them. The lanthay fur was soft, holding my breasts and belly and thighs gently; however, the eyes of the males were not soft. All fed upon the provender I had prepared, yet none seemed immersed in the business of feeding. Lialt lay at ease upon his left arm and side, his jaws busily working the meat he had been given, his eyes moving openly upon me as they had not done when the pot of liquid had been in his hands. Telion sat cross-legged to my right, healing his hunger absently, his eyes deeply involved in following the line of my body where it lay before him. Ceralt, too, studied me where I lay, the bright look in his eyes most familiar, and it came to me that each of these males had had me, that each had made me writhe beneath him, helpless before his manhood. I lowered my eyes to the white fur beneath my arms and studied it, allowing no more than the memory of Telion and Ceralt beneath the hands of my warriors to come to me. I held to such memories, yet the weight of the eyes of the males upon me did not lessen.

I lay so before the males for a number of reckid, and my mind insisted upon returning to the strange words Ceralt had spoken to me upon the matter of pain. He had voiced a desire to share and soothe my pain, a thing I did not fully understand, yet perhaps it was something of an explanation for the actions of city women. Should other males feel as Ceralt did upon the matter, city females would be taught to voice their pain rather than refuse it acknowledgment as Midanna were taught. I saw no reason for such a thing, for pain is more easily bested in silence, yet city females voiced their pain to their males, perhaps in the foolish hope that the pain would be more quickly lessened. Thus far was I able to struggle toward understanding, yet meaning for the balance of his words eluded me. A warrior often called upon her sisters for aid, for they were Midanna and often of the same clan, yet which Midanna would be foolish enough to seek aid from a male? Males wished use from a Midanna and blind obedience, and I knew not why Ceralt would speak of asking his aid. What aid would a male spare for a warrior? And what need had he meant, a need I might find for him beyond the need of the furs? In what other way does one feel need for a male? Of what good are males, that a warrior would feel need for one? I tugged at the lanthay fur beneath my fingers, rubbed my cheek upon its warmth and softness, and fought inwardly to know the meaning of the thoughts of Ceralt.

“Jalav.” Raising my head brought sight again of Ceralt, for it had been he who had spoken, and who now looked more directly into my face. His meat had been consumed, yet a portion of it remained, already cut, and I had no doubt as to the reason for its having been left untouched.

“You have not yet been fed,” said he, moving closer to where I lay. He now sat cross-legged just before me, his knee near to my face. As he looked down upon me, a gentleness entered the strange, light eyes of him. “The fey has been long for one so recently healed,” he said. “Surely you feel hunger?”

I knew not what he sought with such a question, the answer to which should have been obvious, and therefore remained silent under his gaze. With the wordless passing of time, the gentleness faded from his eyes to be replaced with his usual look of strength.

“Woman, I require an answer,” he said, his voice without anger yet tinged with impatience. “Do you feel hunger?”

“Jalav feels some small hunger,” I replied cautiously, wishing to give him naught with which he might shame me further. My hunger was indeed great, as it had been for some time, yet I would not show weakness before males.

“Good,” said Ceralt, smiling as though pleased with my response. “The female Jalav feels hunger. Why, then has the female Jalav not fed herself?”

A frown came to me upon hearing his question, and I could not rid myself of the feeling that he spoke to a purpose. Too often males speak in dizzying circles, yet Ceralt had a look about him that I had seen before and knew well. The male had set himself to bedevil me, perhaps with that which he termed a lesson, perhaps to idle time away in amusement, yet bedevil me he would, with none to deny him.

“I do not know what answers you seek,” I informed him, finding difficulty in raising my head high. I lay upon my belly before him, my neck already stretched so that I might see him, and the position was not one easily described as dignified.

“Allow me then to assist you,” he chuckled, his hand reaching forth to brush loose hair from my cheek. “You hunger, yet have not fed yourself, and there is but one reason for this: men have not given you permission to do so. Do you understand my meaning?”

“Indeed.” I nodded, certain that he would not care for my reply. “Males fear to set themselves against Jalav in the hunt, therefore has she been kept from it. Were she able to hunt, she would not hunger.”

A noise, somewhat similar to strangling, came from Telion, and when I looked toward him, saw that his hand rubbed at his face as he coughed. I thought it likely that he had swallowed wrong and returned my gaze to Ceralt. The light-eyed leader of those called Belsayah also looked upon Telion, though not kindly, and then his annoyance was again directed toward me.

“You are in part correct,” said he, lowering his brows to look upon me sternly. “Jalav is female, and females do not hunt. Should a female wish to eat, she must look to a man to provide for her. Each morsel you eat is provided by me, and should I wish to punish you, you will be made to go hungry. I shall not go hungry, nor shall Lialt nor Telion, yet should it be my wish, you will not be fed. Is this now more understandable to you?”

The cut-up meat lay clear to my vision, and Ceralt’s words were equally as clear. Should the male be displeased with me, he might easily deny me sustenance, disallow my feeding as easily as he formerly demanded it. My insides churned at the thought, increasing my hunger, yet my anger would not be denied.

“Were Jalav able to hunt, she would feed,” said I, moving my eyes from Ceralt’s. “Should the need arise, she is well able to do without.”

Ceralt’s hand came to my chin, and again I was made to look upon him. “Jalav shall not hunt,” said he, the words clearly pronounced. “Jalav is female, and shall eat only if it pleases me to feed her. Should I not be pleased to do so, Jalav shall have no choice save to do without. A woman eats only at the pleasure of men. Hear my words and recall them clearly, wench. I shall now feed you for it pleases me to do so.”

He then took a bit of meat and placed it between my teeth, watching closely to see that I chewed and swallowed as he wished. The meat was cold and overdone, slick with fat which had congealed, and surely was the taste of it more bitter than any meat ever given me. I fed by the will of Ceralt, my hunger seen to by that which he had no desire for, given a male’s leavings and only because the act gave him pleasure. My fists curled tight as each bit of meat was placed between my teeth, and rage grew higher in me at what the male had done. I, a war leader of the Hosta, had been put to her belly before a male and made to feed from his hand! Not through her will did she feed but through his, and the thought nearly drove me insane! Mida, hear me now! When is my captivity to be at an end?!

Mida heard not, and Ceralt would not see me free from him till the last of the meat was consumed. I was achingly aware of the presence of the other males, and when I was at last allowed to move from beside Ceralt, I could not fail to see how they looked upon me with amusement. I moved just past Lialt and Telion, lying again upon the fur with Lialt to my right, Telion to my left, and Ceralt beyond my feet, and Lialt’s chuckle was clear even though I did not look upon him.

“I feel the wench now has a deeper understanding of her place among men,” said he to Ceralt, his voice heavy with approval. “Such understanding is necessary for every female.”

“Some do not see it so and must be taught,” agreed Ceralt, a satisfied sound to him. I grasped the lanthay fur beneath my hands and cheek and ground my teeth in silence.

“A woman’s anger is understandable as well,” said Telion quietly. “Should the wench be one who has never sought the presence of a man, should she be as wild and as free as the urchins of a city’s poorest district, she will undoubtedly be hurt and bewildered when chosen by men to serve them, yet she should not be. A wench who is sweet-bodied and fair of face will ever find herself sought by men, and there is little she may do save learn to serve them well.”

“She must learn there is no denying men’s desires,” said Ceralt, seemingly agreeing with Telion’s words. “Rage as she might, men will take her and keep her, using her as they will. Turn upon your back, woman, so that men may look upon you to their pleasure.”

I had no will to turn as Ceralt commanded, yet there was naught I might do other than obey. I turned to my back, sending my eyes to the tent roof so that I need not look upon the males, yet I knew that their eyes were directly upon me.

“See how nicely her hip turns,” said Lialt, a thickness to his voice. “Full, firm thighs above rounded calves, heavy breasts to cushion a man, slender arms to hold him close. A woman without doubt, Ceralt. A woman of great desire.”

“Aye,” said Telion, his voice much like that of Lialt. “Long black hair in which a man may twist his fingers as he takes her. Use of a short-haired woman is not the same.”

Their need was as clear in their voices as it was in the smell of them, and I brought my arm to cover my eyes as I choked out, “I am a warrior of Mida, a war leader of the Hosta!” The fierce whisper was to have been for my ears alone, an aid against these males and their insistences, however all heard and all laughed softly.

“She seeks to cling to her former beliefs,” said Ceralt, less amusement than satisfaction to his tone. “She has begun to know the falsity of her former position, has begun to feel her vulnerability before men, and desperately strives to regain her former viewpoint. See how tightly her thighs are clasped, a foolish female attempt to keep men from her. We have been told we have a warrior before us, brothers. Who would be the first to show the warrior her womanhood?”

“I would be pleased to do so,” breathed Lialt from my left, so close that his hand caressed my calf and moved upward to my thigh. I cried out in misery and attempted to force him from my side, rising half upward from his lanthay fur to grapple with him, yet ,there was no besting the strength of a male. Gently yet irresistibly I was returned to my back, my arms held above my head with my wrists pinioned in one of Lialt’s hands, and then he began to search for my heat. Through my distress, I was determined to give no response to him, sure that my body would feel no desire for one such as he, yet his hand forced its way between my thighs and his lips bent low to taste of my breasts, and I could not deny the demands he put to me. In but a few reckid, sobbing and mewling, I writhed beneath him, aching for the feel of his manhood, begging to be taken with every motion of my body. Lialt, a male, knelt above me, his fingers and tongue and lips taking all he desired, his eyes bright with the knowledge that I could no longer deny him, and I trembled with the memory of how I had taunted him. I was now his to do with as he pleased, and my needs would slay me were he pleased to leave me unused. I need not have feared, however, for my legs were suddenly thrust apart and Lialt was deep within me, taking me as completely as though I were slave to him.

When Lialt’s need had been seen to, I lay upon my side in the dimness of the tent, my knees drawn up to my belly, my face buried in my arms. Great shame had been given to me that darkness, yet it was a shame borne of my own failures, my own crippling needs. To defy Lialt in future would be idle, for it was easily seen that he need do no more than touch me to bring me groveling to his feet. I wished desperately to speak with Mida and ask her what might be done to lift the curse from my body, yet she had said she would not walk my dreams again, and there was none else to whom I might speak.

A hand touched my arm, slowly, caressingly, and in my startlement my head flew up from my arms. Lialt, I knew, sat and shared near-renth with Ceralt, and this was Telion who now sat beside me. His light eyes, shadowed, looked down upon me, yet even shadowed there was no mistaking his intent.

“Telion, no!” I whispered, seeking to back from him in the fur. His hand moved quickly to grasp my hair, and then he had taken me in his arms.

“Jalav, this is a woman’s purpose,” he murmured, his hands moving about me. “Do you feel no desire for me?”

My breasts were hard against the red-gold hair of his chest, his manhood was a rock in my thigh, and to my horror, my heat had again begun to rise.

“Telion, I wish to be left to my misery,” I whispered hoarsely, looking up into his broad, male face. “Release me, for I indeed have no desire for you.”

“A wench would do well to learn not to lie,” chuckled Telion, stroking my hair. “For lying, you must now be punished.”

And then his hand went to me, and I gasped and stiffened in his arms at the touch. The moisture flowed from me as though I were just emerged from a stream, and I could not keep from crying out again and again. This the males found highly amusing, for Telion would not let me rest. Over and again he caused me to sob and cry out, digging at his arms with my fingernails, my body a desire-racked, flailing thing whipping about beside him. When I screamed and threw myself upon him, he grinningly held me still and demanded to know if I yet felt desire for him. I wept then and screamed again and the male at last saw fit to ease my agony. Much pleasure did this Telion bring me, yet he stayed till his own pleasure had been taken in full measure. When he left me, I knew well that I had been used, and my mind was too beclouded to think.

I must have slept briefly, for the next I knew, Ceralt’s foot nudged me awake. The tent had been dimmed to one small flame in a box, and the previous warmth was nearly gone, for the two pots of black stones had been quenched with water. Lialt and Telion lay wrapped in lenga pelts to the right, and when Ceralt saw my eyes upon him, he gestured to the left.

“Take yourself to my furs, woman,” said he, stretching hugely before beginning to remove his leathers. “The journey begins again with first light, and I wish to sleep.”

Miserably, covered with the smell of males’ satisfaction, I crept to Ceralt’s furs and within them. His dark form moved about briefly till his leathers lay disgarded, then he, too, had slipped within the furs beside me. He moved a bit to find comfort, and then his arms were strongly about me, holding me to his broad chest. There was naught I felt the need to say, yet his hand found my chin and lifted my face toward his.

“This darkness you were punished, little varaina,” said he, his voice soft as breathing. “Do you yet understand the reason for your punishment?”

Though I could not see him, I knew his eyes were upon me and that he would feel the shake of my head. I had not known that I had been given punishment, nor was I able to see a reason for such. Ceralt sighed, and his hand moved gently upon my face.

“You were given punishment for having declared yourself a warrior,” said he, the gentleness of his touch matched in his tone. “My Jalav is a woman, no longer a warrior, and so long as she insists upon ignoring this truth, so long will she be punished. Lialt and Telion found no warrior beneath their hands, but a woman, one who could not deny men their due. Your body has learned what your mind has not, that you are now bound to men as tightly as any other woman. Soon your mind will know it as your body does, and your anger and misery will be no more. It is that fey which I look forward to.”

I made no answer to his words, yet my mind seethed with fury. The male sought to break me to his will, to enslave my mind as he had enslaved my body, yet this I would not allow. I was in possession of Mida’s words that I remained a favored warrior, and this, above all else, would keep me from the folly of belief in his words. It shamed me deeply that I was unable to deny Lialt and Telion, yet this, too, must have a purpose in Mida’s scheme of things. I would not cease to believe in my warriorhood, nor would I refrain from speaking of it should the occasion arise.

“That stubbornness has taken you again,” said Ceralt, annoyance sharpening his tone. “I can feel the stiffness to your body, the refusal of your inner self to obey. If further punishment is what you seek, varaina, so be it. Your use will be free to my brothers till the fey you declare yourself a woman and mine. Upon that fey you may ask that I alone use you, and perhaps the favor will be granted. At this moment, however, I feel a desire to be pleasured. See to pleasing me, woman, and do not be clumsy. ”

He released me and lay flat upon the furs, and I sat up and stared at the dark shape of him in confusion.

“I know naught of pleasing males,” said I, never having heard the demand before. “Are males not pleased through the use of females?”

“They are,” agreed the dark Ceralt shape, “yet there are other means by which man may feel pleasure. Do you recall our first meeting, in the woods three feyd from Bellinard? Think back to the time, varaina, and do to me now that which you merely began at that time.”

The time of our first meeting was easily recalled, yet the memory brought dismay rather than enlightenment. What I had done to Ceralt was a warrior’s way of firing a male without the use of the sthuvad drug, and was not meant to be used upon a male who was unbound. I attempted to explain this to Ceralt, yet he refused to hear my words, demanding instead that I begin to serve him. His fist in my hair disallowed further discussion, and the results of my efforts were far more distasteful than even I had imagined. Ceralt could not resist the touch of my lips and tongue upon him, yet I, too, found the flames lapping high in my belly. The heat of him, the smell of his desire, the feel of his firm, male body beneath my hands—madly I thought myself again in that forest, a bound male before me, my warriors ranged about awaiting their own pleasure. I laughed and told him of how I would take and use him, and then the horror of the true situation was forced upon me. The male I had thought bound was free to throw me beneath him, and then I, not he, was taken and used, a lust not to be denied driving him harder and harder. I cried and sobbed many times during that use, not all deriving from pleasure, and when the storm had passed and I again lay quietly in his arms, his body still in possession of mine, I at last knew the full dangers of arousing a male. Weaponless, a warrior might do naught to deny him, weaponless, she could only endure.

“You need not fear punishment,” murmured Ceralt, and his lips touched my hair very gently. “Long had I wished to find myself before you in such a way again, only this time unbound, and my wish has been granted. You have given me great pleasure, and perhaps, in the future, I might again allow you to pretend to warriorhood. ”

He chuckled then and kissed me a second time, his arms closing more tightly about me so that I might not struggle free. My struggles lasted only a brief time for I had little strength left with which to struggle, yet my anger continued to seethe even till Ceralt had fallen asleep. That he would “allow me to pretend to warriorhood” was the foulest blow of all, for he had made it seem that my actions had been no more than obedience to his desire. I moved angrily in the prison of his arms, then drew my breath in sharply as his manhood throbbed in response to my movement, sending a weakness through me that could not be overcome. Even in his sleep he was able to debilitate me, take my strength and fire my blood so that I could not resist him. I pressed my lips to his chest, tasting the sweat upon the hairs there, then licked at the spot as I moved my hips, gently soothing the desire begun in me. Ceralt slept on, all unknowing, and soon, I too, was able to sleep.