An Oath to Mida

5 A new place of capture—and a questioning by males

Foul was the taste in my mouth when I awakened to the new light coming through dingy windows. I lay upon my back a moment, recalling with anger the potion which had been forced upon me, wondering as to its purpose. Though the fire burned high and hot not far from where I lay, no other remained within the room to feed it. Perhaps the potion had merely been meant to cause sleep to take me, yet I could not fail to remember the slave-potion Ceralt and the other males of Bellinard had used to capture the Hosta in their own home tents. Devious are males, and seldom forthright, and unhappy was the fey that first saw their paths entwined with those of warriors.

Crossly, I moved myself to sitting, and then found the air within the dwelling much less chill by cause of the warmth of the fire. I threw the covering pelt from me, firstly to increase my comfort, and secondly to examine the state of my wounds. As soon as my legs were again able to bear my weight, I would find some manner of escaping the hold of these males and returning to my own land.

Slowly and clumsily I unwrapped the cloth from about my right calf. The wound upon my leg showed itself only partially healed, a raw, red slash still clear evidence of the one-time presence of a Silla spear. Easily might Helis have allowed me a sword, yet the Silla war leader had not chosen to do so, choosing instead to await me at the end of the lines. Should she and I ever face one another again, sorely would she regret her former actions. All do act through the will of Mida, yet oft times Mida does no more than allow us our choice of actions—and their consequences. Helis had had her choice of actions, and one fey, Mida willing, the consequences would also be hers.

Abruptly, then, the door to the dwelling opened, allowing in a gust of cold air along with the form of a young female. Dark of hair and eyes was this female, of a size slightly greater than other city females, and strangely clad was she. No cloth was her covering but leather, closed to either side of her body by long leather ties, and about her waist was a belt of copper-colored metal, hugging the leather to her and displaying her form beneath it. The covering itself fell only to her knees, for below it, rising from her feet, were fur wrappings of the sort Lialt and Ceralt had worn.

“But you are not to sit up!” the female blurted, her pretty face distressed as she stepped the closer. “And what have you done to the bandage? Oh, Lialt will be furious!” Quickly she glanced at the door. “Lialt will be here in no more than a moment,” she fussed, seemingly in consternation. “Come, I will assist you in replacing the furs before his appearance.”

“Jalav does not care for the orders of strangers,” I informed the female, my eyes holding her once-again widened ones. “Jalav shall replace the covering when it is her wish to do so.”

Though my tone had held naught save mild annoyance, surely did the female behave as though faced with swordthreat. Carefully, her hand left the pelt I yet held, and in a slow scrabbling manner she backed away from where I sat. Her face, though she had the kalod to be a fully blooded warrior, appeared to be that of a child, frightened, unsure, open and vulnerable.

In a thin, quivering voice she began, “I did not mean to—” and then her eyes fell upon my wound. Pale she grew, and even more unsteady, and again the large, dark eyes returned to me. “I had not known what manner of hurt you had sustained,” she whispered, clearly touched. “The pain must hold you in constant grip. How might such a thing have come to be?”

Little understanding had I of the female’s actions, yet did I feel as though I spoke with a child of the clans, one far from knowledge of warriorhood and the ways of Mida. No warrior might honorably feel anger toward one such, nor does a warrior heap upon such a child knowledge which it is unnecessary for her to have. Never would the one before me prove a warrior, therefore had I little reason to give detail which would frighten.

“The manner of arrival of such things is unimportant.” I shrugged, attempting a soothing smile. “Rest assured that the wounds heal well and rapidly, and soon shall be no more. How are you called, girl?”

“I am Tarla,” said she quite eagerly, her face brightening. “I am most pleased to know you, Jalav, and I shall come each fey to see to your comfort. May I do you some service now?”

This female appeared as eager to please as my male Fideran had been, and surely did the thought cause me to smile in amusement. Not often is a Hosta warrior served so by a female, and never had I known such service till it became necessary to move among the places of males. Males are ever unable to fend for themselves, ever in need of one to do for them. This Tarla seemed well suited to the needs of males, and had undoubtedly been trained by them to be so. Child though she was, still was she a slave-woman to males, as are most city females, and now had her services been offered to me.

The thought came that a water skin might be well received by my throat, and just as I began to voice the thought the door opened once again, bringing a breath of cold and Lialt within side by side. Lialt quickly closed the door behind him, and as he did so, the female Tarla gasped in upset and rose to her feet.

“You must not enter, Pathfinder!” Tarla exclaimed, one hand extended before her as though to keep Lialt away by main strength. “Jalav is not yet prepared for you, and your presence now is improper!”

“My presence now is necessary, wench,” Lialt snorted, striding forward toward where I sat. “Jalav shall not be allowed the time to prepare as she most wishes to. And what has been done here?”

Sternly did the male look upon me with renewed anger, for he had seen the cloth I had removed from the wound. His light eyes flashed with disapproval, much as Ceralt’s were wont to do, and his broad, dark face creased in a frown. Deliberately, I reached out toward the cloth upon my left leg.

“All know that a wound kept from the sight of Mida cannot be thought to heal as rapidly as one exposed to her vision,” I murmured as I loosened the cloth. “Lialt need have little concern, and may now go about his business—elsewhere.”

Lialt knelt immediately and grasped my wrists in large, angry, male hands. “I grow exceedingly weary of a wench who doesn’t restrain her tongue!” he snapped, the strength of his grip tightening about my wrists. “Lialt’s coming and going may be dictated by the will of Ceralt, but none other may so direct him, and most certainly not a girl child! You will lie quietly in accordance with my wishes, and will not touch the bandage I place upon you, else will you be well punished! Heed my words, Jalav, for I have no further patience to spend upon you!”

Much did Lialt’s anger cause my own to blaze, and truly did I attempt to escape his grip. “Jalav is no slave-woman to be spoken to so!” I hissed, twisting at his hold. “Jalav may be directed by none save Mida, for Jalav is proven war leader of the Hosta! Should Lialt wish her obedience, he may face her with sword in hand, and thereby earn final obedience—or find that he has pledged his own! Choose now, male, and rest assured that your blood shall be dedicated to Mida in a proper manner!”

Numb had my wrists grown beneath the pressure of Lialt’s fingers, yet the male seemed unaware of the state he caused. His features seemed in some manner shadowed as he stared without movement at my indignation. No sound was there save the snap of the fire and the breathing of the two city-folk in my company, and then did Lialt think to bestir himself.

“I do not fail to note the sincerity in your offer,” said he quite softly, though something of anger yet remained. “I am appalled that a wench might be raised so, to fancy herself the match of a man with a man’s weapons, yet was it clear long ago that much must be taught you. The greater part of your teaching will come from Ceralt, yet there is that which may be supplied by me. I shall not shirk my duty.”

With those words I was forced flat upon the lenga pelt, and kept so as Lialt replaced the cloth about my right leg also tightening that which I had begun to loosen upon my left leg. Much did I rage and call down Mida’s wrath upon his head, yet were my words unheeded by the male, he uncaring as he went about that which he wished done. The blows I rained upon the arm and back of Lialt were as naught by cause of my weakness. Tarla stood atremble with distress, fearful of the male’s anger as a warrior would never be. Had it been Fayan or Larid who stood there, quickly would Lialt have found himself struck upon the head with firewood, or the object of merciless attack, but were my warriors far behind me, unable to aid their war leader. Alone among enemies was Jalav, subject to the whim of males. However Jalav was on the mend, soon to be well and strong again. Such thought sustained me as Lialt turned from my legs.

“I shall see you fed before I go,” said he as though I had never raised hand to him, and then his eyes moved upon me as they had never before done. Widely did he grin at that which took his eye, and much approval did he find in the sight of my breasts, his eyes leaving them reluctantly to come to my face. “You are a well-made wench, that I’ll grant,” said he with a lightness which caused my teeth to clench. “As you find the covering of your body unnecessary, I shall recommend to Ceralt that he display you so before the elders this fey when they call. Perhaps they shall be sufficiently distracted to cause less difficulty than they currently propose to do.”

With a snarl for his words, my hand immediately reached for the cast-off pelt, but he held it where it lay against my outraged pull.

“Ah, no,” said he grinning. “You may not now cover yourself. Perhaps I shall allow it later, should I be pleased with your conduct. Tarla, wane some falum for Jalav, so that she may properly invest her halyar with her presence.”

I lay in helpless outrage as the girl Tarla hurried to obey the word of Lialt. With nervous fingers did she take a small, metal pot and hang it over the fire. Quickly an odor arose from the pot she tended with stirring wood, an odor of grains admixed with salt, and I knew I wished none of it. In a hand of reckid, Tarla dipped out a wooden potful of that which had been called falum, and then brought it to where I lay.

“With Lialt’s permission, I would offer falum of my own self, Jalav,” said the girl as she knelt beside me. “Ever do Belsayah partake of falum as their first true meal within the walls of a new halyar, thereby asking the blessings of the Serene Oneness upon themselves and their undertakings. I offer you welcome to our village, sister, and also offer up a prayer for your well-being.”

She was smiling, and soft were the words she addressed to me, for she spoke clearly of custom one did well to accept and abide by—yet I had not come to her village of my own accord. Many times had I followed custom of others, accepting that as the duty of a war leader, yet Lialt’s knee upon my hair showed well that I was prisoner rather than guest and therefore free of the requirements which bind a guest. I turned my face from her, saying, “One does not extend hospitality to captives. Your actions are mistaken, girl.”

“She is naught save a child of savages, Tarla,” said Lialt with great gentleness, speaking across to me. “To feel pain from that which she does in ignorance is futile, for one cannot instruct when obscured by tears. Each of us must instruct her as best we may, and perhaps one fey she, too, shall feel tears for that which she has done.”

Lialt took possession of the wooden pot, turning his attention to me. I lay upon the pelt I had lain upon so long, feeling within me the echo of the word, “savage.”

“Savage” had the slaveguards of Belinard called me, as a “savage” had Ceralt once looked upon me, and much loathing did I feel for the word. Not warrior was I to them, nor war leader, but “savage,” one to be looked down upon and scorned. And I sought memory of the lands of Midanna, a land fraught with danger, yet one which was mine.

“The falum should be eaten while still warm,” said Lialt, and his arm began to circle my shoulders. “Come, Jalav. You may sit the while you eat.”

In such a manner did the male speak to me. You are to feed, Jalav. You may sit, Jalav. No matter my will in the matter, Lialt would see his own will done. As the male’s arm raised me, I reached out and knocked the pot from his grasp, sending it to the dirt-covered floor, where its contents might spill and spread. A low curse escaped the male’s lips as his eyes followed the path of the pot, his hand futilely areach for that which was already lost, and then was his anger sent toward me once more.

“Indeed are you the spawn of Sigurr!” he spat, as his arm tightened about me. “As you wish it, so shall it be!”

Then did he let me fall once more to the lenga pelt, causing sharp pain to stab at my sides and arms, and quickly did he gain his feet. Though no sound had passed my lips to give evidence of the pain, still had Tarla seen its track across my face, and compassion took her features as she moved the closer, extending her arms as though to offer aid. Surely would she have touched me had Lialt not returned, two lengths of leather from a wall peg in his hands, determination in his manner, and brusquely did he reach past her to me, and roughly was I thrust to my belly upon the furs, Lialt drawing my wrists behind me to fasten them there with the leather, then doing the same to my ankles. Such a doing twisted my wounded skin as it should not have been twisted, and my stomach heaved from that and from the odor of the pelts beneath my face, yet I made no protest nor outcry, for how may a captive protest the doings of her captors? With some difficulty did I grapple with the queasiness as Lialt bade Tarla fetch further falum, yet when Lialt turned me to him once more, a fresh pot of falum in his hand, no sign of my battle did I show to him.

Overwarm was the room and the air within, and moisture touched my body at many points, and the arm of Lialt was most unwelcome. Firmly, I attempted to refuse the heated grain, yet this Lialt would not accept, forcing the pot to my lips. Much of it spattered my body, Lialt’s leathers, the furs and the floor, yet much of it entered me as well. Coughing and choking, I was made to feed as Lialt wished, and with the pot emptied, he did naught save return me to the pelt beneath me and take himself from the dwelling, his low-muttering voice reviling all womankind. Urgently did my stomach insist that it would soon empty itself of all placed therein, but I only lay as I had been placed, upon my bound wrists, and refused to hear the protestations of my innards. The sweat of illness ran between my breasts, finding smears of falum which must be circled, and my eyes closed in near defeat, for how may a warrior fight the strength of a male? From a great distance off, I felt the touch of a hand upon my brow, yet the words of a question spoken by Tarla did not reach me, flowing low and slow about the whirlpool in which I spun. Then the hand withdrew and the voice as well, and the darkness came in their stead.

When once again my eyes opened, no longer did the leather hold me, no longer did the falum cover me, no longer was the cast-off pelt apile beside me. A moistened cloth touched my face, held by a sad-eyed Tarla upon my right, and to my left, cross-legged, sat Ceralt. Beyond Ceralt, by a window through which he gazed, stood Lialt, no victory apparent in the slope of his shoulders, no joy visible in the bend of his head. Slightly did I move beneath the fur which covered me, for its presence was discomfort, and immediately Ceralt looked at me, keenly questioning. No wish had I to meet his gaze, yet his hand came to my face and turned it to him, his fingers gentle and warm upon my skin.

“How do you fare?” he asked, his voice overly soft as though at the urging of great anger. I could not take my face from the hand in which it was held.

“I fare as do all captives,” I made answer, no longer avoiding his gaze. “My value in trade is not much diminished, therefore may you set your mind at rest.”

“As I thought,” growled Ceralt, the anger ablaze in his eyes as he released me and rose to his feet. “See you now my meaning, Lialt?”

“Ceralt, it matters not,” protested Lialt, his face full to his brother’s. “None know as well as I how sorely she was wounded, yet I bound her in leather, increasing her pain. I did not inform you of my doings to have you place the blame upon her!”

“The blame must be placed where it most belongs,” said Ceralt, his hand upon Lialt’s shoulder. “Ever has she been so, able to tear at a man’s pride so that he wishes to do naught save show her her vulnerability. She knows not where she stands among men for none have taught her. When I have drawn her from the circle, she will begin to learn, yet now her manner must be borne. Are you able to wait for full punishment to come to her?”

Lialt shook his head and turned away. “I know not,” said he, his back to Ceralt, his hand arub upon his neck. “Sooner would I tend a true hadat, for she seeks ever to oppose my will. Is there naught you may do, Ceralt?”

“I may do no more than take some part of the burden from you,” replied Ceralt, turning once more to study me where I lay. “I shall assist you with her feeding, and shall also seek a punishment which might be given her now. In such a manner might we all survive her healing.”

With dry humor had Ceralt spoken, yet no humor was there in his eyes, as though I had not the right to protest my captivity. Odd are males in their thoughts and beliefs, yet no males had I known as odd as Ceralt and Telion and Galiose and their ilk. As a child, I had been told that for three or four to fall upon one was cowardly and evil, for one grants single combat even to blood enemies, yet large numbers are used in the capture of males to keep the males from harm. Should one wish to challenge a male, one warrior would suffice, yet it is the male’s seed, not his blood, that one seeks from a sthuvad. What, then, might a male seek from a warrior whom he takes captive, one who wishes naught of him? To live with the hatred of another seems ill to me, yet so do males choose to live when they take an unwilling female. In confusion did I shake my head, finding great frustration in lack of understanding, yet naught was there I might do for it.

“Truly I, too, shall soon require healing,” said Lialt, the beginnings of a grin upon his face as he turned once more to me. “She tries me sorely, brother, and I cannot see what interest she holds for you.”

“Were she in her normal dress,” laughed Ceralt, “her attraction would be more visible, yet even such bounty is not the reason I desire her.” He crouched slowly then, to put his hand upon my face, his eyes searching deep within me. “There is some lure, some need acalling that draws me,” he murmured, his nearness and the smell of his leathers nearly overwhelming me. “I knew her for mine when first I laid eyes upon her, knew then, too, she would never escape me, but knew not for some time the manner in which she might be approached. Now that knowledge, too, is mine, yet it may not be used as she is. All must wait upon her healing, yet the will of the Snows may refuse to wait. Have you seen aught further?”

“No,” replied Lialt, his hand upon Ceralt’s shoulder. “The Snows blow with great turbulence, showing the approach of much of importance, yet naught with definition have I seen. Would you have me search further?”

“I do not seek to bring the time upon us,” said Ceralt with a shake of his head, a sigh in his voice. “I feel it best that we refrain from prodding at the sleeping torcho, lest it waken prematurely and devour us all.” His eyes met mine. “And you,” said he, a touch of asperity to his tone. “Captive have you named yourself, yet you are mistaken. No captive are you but an unclaimed wench—till I choose to have you otherwise. Do not give me further cause to seek punishment for you. There shall be no pleasure for you in such an undertaking, nor shall your pride find further salve in pain. Should you wish to avoid humiliation, do not set yourself against me.”

With such words did Ceralt rise and gesture Lialt with him, both taking leave of the dwelling with no further look for me. Much relieved was I at his departure, for greatly did the presence of the male disturb me, and I knew not how to deal with the weakness. I turned to my belly in great upset, barely noticing the remnants of my body’s aches, deeply concerned with those feelings which held me in their grip. I had no fear of Ceralt, although I much feared that which sight of him brewed within me. Well did I know that he cared naught for me, thinking only and ever of my value, yet I knew not why I could not keep his acts of betrayal clearly in mind when he stood before me. With the capture of the Hosta had he betrayed me, with the recovery of the third Crystal of Mida had he betrayed me—yet his broad chest and dark, unruly hair drove such thoughts from me, his light eyes and caressing hands filling my thoughts with naught save the feel of him against me and within me. Truly did I wish myself city slave-woman, so that I might run and hide from that which I feared. Mida allows no fear to her warriors, a law I had never before found fault with, yet I knew not the manner in which I might face this fear.

“Do not upset yourself so, Jalav,” came Tarla’s hesitant voice from behind me. “The High Rider will not allow harm to come to you, for he means to draw you from the circle. That he smiles upon you is your good fortune.”

I raised my head to gaze at her across my shoulder, and saw that she knelt not far from me, her dark eyes wide and worried. No longer did she wear the fur wrappings about her feet, they being stood neatly beside a wall, and she knelt back upon bare heels, her hands at rest in her lap. Much of the slave was there in Tarla the female, but worse than useless would it have been to remark on it. I turned again with a sigh, coaxing my abused arms to raise me to sitting and then looked bleakly upon her.

“I have noticed few smiles of late from Ceralt,” said I. “What is this circle of which all speak, and in what manner is one drawn from it?”

“Surely you jest.” Tarla smiled in disbelief. “Do not all men everywhere draw their women from the circle of choice?”

Again I sighed, for ever must it seem to those who do not travel that their ways are followed the world over. Much had I, myself, believed so in some part, yet had my wandering taught me otherwise. With a patience I did not truly feel, I smiled upon the female.

“Never have I heard mention of the custom,” said I, drawing my bound hair across my left shoulder so that I might loosen it. “Would you care to instruct me in the matter?”

“With great pleasure,” said she, eagerly. “I know not why your people fail to know of it, yet shall I assist you in your learning. The matter goes thusly: In the fall of her sixteenth kalod, each girl of the village must begin to place herself within the circle of choice, where the men of the village might lay claim to her. The circles are formed each time the darkness is unlit, an event which occurs each thirty-fifth fey, and all girls eligible are required to circle. Should a girl circle undrawn as many as six times, she is then withdrawn and sent to circle in a neighboring village. Many girls, with their father’s permission, are sent to the circle sooner, for they have caught the eye of a man who does not care to wait for their sixteenth kalod, yet is the decision one for the men involved. Should the girl, at the younger age, be unprepared to receive a man, her father will not allow her to join the circle till the law directs his choice.”

That males should have such sway over their slave-women came as no surprise, yet the matter sat ill with me. Surely did they mean to extend such treatment to me, hoping to see me become slave to them, yet sooner would I stand beside Mida, though my work for her was as yet unfinished.

“Entering the circle is a time of great excitement,” continued Tarla. “Should a girl have been smiled upon by a man of the village, he will surely claim her then before all of the village. Some girls are of interest to more than one rider, and then does the claiming leather of each of them fall upon her, each attempting to draw her to his side, and then do the riders challenge one another, the winner taking the girl as his own. Surely, in such an instance, does the girl hope for the victory of the rider she prefers, for should the other prove victorious, it would be him she must serve.” She sighed deeply then. “Can you not feel how marvelous it would be, Jalav, to be won by the man of your heart? To be his despite the attempts of others? Ever do I dream of being won so, of being carried to my father’s halyar and first claimed there, and then taken to the halyar of the man of my heart, there to serve his every need. Upon my knees would I serve him, and gladly, yet must I wait a kalod longer, for my father will not see me within the circle sooner. But what shall I do if he does not wait?”

Carried off by a male indeed! Surely would Tarla have thought the capture of the Hosta by the males of Ranistard “marvelous.” Hosta knew naught of such custom as she had described, being properly unconcerned with the wishes of males. At no time were the wishes of the males consulted, for such would have been foolishness. I drew my fingers through the tangle of my unbound hair, and thought with annoyance upon the matter of the circle of choice.

“Your hair is very long and beautiful,” said Tarla with her usual shyness, her previous distress seemingly overcome. “I shall comb it for you so that you may feel more presentable at the appearance of the elders.”

She rose from her place and went toward a small, round platform beside the wall to the right of the fireplace, and drew therefrom a thick comb of wood. The small, round platform had not been there when I had first been brought to the dwelling, and then did I see that much of the dirt of disuse had been removed from the room as well. The wooden floors were now without rubble and dust, the fireplace had been cleared before a new fire had been laid, and some layers of grease and dirt had been removed from the windows. Still was the room quite bare, with only the round platform and my furs, a few large metal hooks on the walls, yet had it been cleaned. Undoubtedly Tarla had been set to the doing, and without protest must she have obeyed.

I made no refusal as Tarla set the comb to my hair, for I still had not the strength to move my arms so. Instead, I attempted to question the girl upon the matter of the forthcoming visit to those who had been called elders, yet naught did she know of their purpose, save that they would attempt to dispute the claims of Ceralt. Much interest had I in such news, for were it possible to deny Ceralt’s assertions, then might I be released to go my own way. Naught would be lost in such an attempt and much might be gained, therefore did I resolve to do what I might to see it so.

Tarla was nearly done with her combing when Ceralt and Lialt returned. I sat with my hair spread out about my arms and thighs as the door opened, and looked up to see the entrance of the males. Lialt frowned in usual disapproval over some matter, yet Ceralt halted a pace or two from the door, an odd, indescribable look within the deep, light pools of his eyes. With longing did those eyes hold to me, a longing well mixed with hot desire, and sharply did I recall the manner in which his heat used me, ever with strength, never to be denied. My fingers found the ends of my hair and grasped them nervously, for surely he meant to take me then to quench his heat. I, too, felt the stirrings of desire, yet would his use of me be most painful with the presence of my wounds, more painful even than the use of Nolthis had been. Quickly I lowered my gaze so that my eyes might not betray and shame me, and nearly did I miss the voice of Lialt.

“Again she disobeys!” snapped Lialt, his annoyance clear even through my upset. “Have I not told her, again and again, that she is forbidden to sit so? Now would I see her punished, Ceralt, as you have promised!”

No immediate answer was made by Ceralt, yet the sound of his step upon the wooden floor caused me to twist more vigorously at the ends of my hair where it lay upon the lenga pelt which covered me. Sooner would I have had his punishment than his caress, for his caress was true pain, yet his hand came to smooth my hair, and then the backs of his fingers touched my cheek.

“Is a wench to be disallowed the combing of her hair, brother?” Ceralt asked most softly as he stood beside me. His hand went to a strand of my hair, and he drew it gently through his fingers as he crouched beside me. My cheek burned where he had touched it, and surely did I wish for the strength to draw away from him. “See how lovely she looks, Lialt. Her health and beauty return through your efforts—and those of Tarla. Never have I punished a wench for seeing to her appearance, yet should you ask it—”

“Enough, brother!” laughed Lialt, no longer with anger in his voice. “Willingly do I grant the girl time for her beautifying, if only for your sake, yet does she now seem weary. I would see her rest a time, and then may the ministrations continue.”

“As you say, brother,” Ceralt agreed, also with laughter. His hands took me by the arms and pressed me back toward the pelt beneath me, and surely did I think the thudding of my heart would be heard by all in the dwelling. Now would he use me, causing me to voice my pain, giving me shame before the others in my weakness. My eyes sought his, seeking a sign of when the thing would begin, and the laughter left his broad, dark face.

“Lialt, see how pale she has become.” Ceralt frowned, his eyes concerned. “And feel how she trembles beneath my hands. What ails her?”

Lialt, too, came to crouch beside me, his hand upon my brow, yet was I unable to take my eyes from Ceralt. A silent moment of consideration did Lialt pass, and then he spoke.

“I know not the why of it, brother,” said Lialt somewhat in puzzlement, “yet does it seem that the wench fears you.”

“Fears me!” echoed Ceralt, shock and disbelief in his light eyes. “For what reason would she fear me?”

The words of Lialt touched me with shock as well, and then indignation came, more strongly than the earlier apprehension. “Jalav fears no male!” said I with heat, attempting to twist from the hands of Ceralt. “Use me as you will, give me pain as you will, yet shall I look upon you with hate rather than fear! Do your worst; I do not fear you!”

“Of what does she speak, Ceralt?” asked Lialt in confusion, his eyes turning toward his brother. “She is not yet strong enough to be drawn from the circle and used. For what reason would she believe you meant to use her?”

Ceralt took a breath unto himself, and then he shook his head with a good deal of annoyance. “The wench knows me well, Lialt,” said the male whose hands yet held my arms, whose eyes yet held mine. “I do indeed feel great desire for her this moment, yet does she know me less well than she believes. Despite the urgings of my desire, I shall not bed her till she is able to reply with the small amount of expertise I have thus far been able to teach her. Use of her now would be less than adequate, and I have not the patience for it.”

“Less than adequate!” I sputtered, full outrage upon me.

“Small amount of—that you—!” Words failed me then, so great was my indignation, and the laughter of the males did naught to cool my outrage. Furiously, I struggled against the strong hands which held me, for many males had felt themselves honored to be allowed the sharing of my sleeping leather long before the appearance of this prancing he-wrettan, Ceralt! And now does he calmly announce—!

“Gently, Jalav, gently,” laughed Ceralt, greatly amused as he held to me. His light eyes danced with laughter, and Lialt crouched, forearms upon thighs, also widely agrin. Truly drained was I from the struggle, yet never would I allow males to laugh at me so. My hair twisted and caught beneath me, Tarla’s combing totally undone, yet the males’ amusement knew no end.

Then came another, unexpected voice, the voice of Tarla, yet was this a Tarla I had not earlier seen. With great anger, she grasped an arm of Ceralt in her two small hands and attempted to loosen his grip upon me.

“For shame, High Rider!” she cried, drawing the eyes of the males and their surprise as well. “Never had I thought to see one such as you torment a helpless woman! Is not the pain of her wounds enough? Must you add to it? Can you not see what your amusement has cost her?”

“Truly am I now able to see that which is so clear to you, Tarla,” said Ceralt, his voice as soft as the look in his eye as he gazed upon me. “I am pleased that the well-being of my wench is so firmly seen to by you, for she has great need of wise protection. Her protection must be yours till I am able to claim her. ”

“I shall protect her,” asserted Tarla, pink-cheeked with fluster over that which she had done, yet attempting to maintain a great dignity. She knelt beside Ceralt, her hands now returned to her lap, her head held high, true dedication in her large, dark eyes and upon her youthful face. Still feeling anger, I turned from them, for they continued to make sport of me. How was a child such as Tarla to be the protector of a war leader of the Midanna? In no way might this be done, save through the shaming of such a war leader. Some small dizziness attempted to claim me as I lay with my cheek to the fur, yet this I would not allow. The wounds inflicted by the Silla had done me considerable harm, yet would I overcome these wounds and all that my enemies might do to me. I, a Hosta warrior, would not be kept forever from earned vengeance and the freedom of the forests!

“Now must I see further to Jalav’s protection,” said Tarla, and there came the sound of her rising. “Falum, though traditional, cannot by itself return her to strength. I shall prepare a cut of vellin for her, for her hunger must be great.”

“Excellent,” said Ceralt, approval clear in his tone. “I would see her fed before the arrival of the elders, for they mean to question her closely. And I would also see her boniness replaced with her former roundness. There is little pleasure in taking a wench in your arms, only to be stabbed at by her ribs.”

Lialt’s chuckle joined Ceralt’s, yet Tarla, who had moved to the fire and therefore within my sight, reddened with embarrassment at these words, and hurried about her self-proclaimed task. I, in the furs, my back to the males, uttered no word, yet my hand stole to my side. Still was there cloth about the wound there, yet was there also no difficulty in perceiving the truth of Ceralt’s words. Through the efforts of Nolthis and the Silla, much of my body weight had gone from me, leaving naught save an ungainly gauntness in its wake. Not since the time before I had become a warrior had I been so thin. Again I lay upon my back, turning my head to see Ceralt and Lialt, sitting cross-legged not far from me, conversing lightly, and the thought came that perhaps I had not been blessed by Mida with a full figure, but rather cursed. Perhaps, to avoid further pain and shame, it would be best if Jalav remained unpleasing to males, to be scorned by them rather than coveted. In such a manner might freedom be more quickly regained and thereafter kept. A sthuvad need not be pleased with the warrior who uses him, and once free, such was the only male whose use I would seek.

The males continued to speak with one another of unimportant things, such as the doings of their village and the trade engaged in with other, similar villages, and quickly was the room filled with the odor of meat aroast. Tarla stood by the fire, slowly turning a spit which was part of the fireplace, carefully awatch upon a cut of meat which she had placed thereon. Vellin she had called the meat, and though I knew not from which of the children of the wild it came, still its aroma had the power to tempt me even though Tarla did as other city folk and allowed the meat too long a time with the fire. When at last she removed it from the spit and placed it upon a square of wood, the juices ran but feebly from it, and much of its lure had gone as well. Such was not the disappointment it might have been, for it aided me in the decision I had made. Little would I feed upon in my captivity, no more than enough to restore my strength and health. Few males would find me pleasing as I was, and none would seek my detainment or capture. Little knowledge had I of males and their thoughts, yet was it easily seen that most preferred a female with great beauty. Though there was naught I might do upon the matter of my femaleness, perhaps seeing to the other would suffice till I once again held sword in hand.

Tarla brought the meat, upon its wooden square, to Lialt and he, with the dagger which hung at his belt and a three-pronged device carved from wood supplied by Tarla, cut the meat into tiny pieces.

With the meat cut, Tarla knelt beside me and attempted to place a portion of it in my mouth with the sharpened wood, yet this I would not allow. With some small effort, I once again sat erect upon the furs, and with slightly trembling fingers took the meat through my own efforts. Disapproval stood clear in the features of Lialt and Ceralt, yet they did not voice their disapproval, and Tarla saw it not. The girl merely smiled with pleasure that I took sustenance, content to allow me my own wishes, and answered my query with a small laugh. The meat did not derive from a child of the wild, said she, but from one of the herd animals kept by her people. Vellin were raised for the purpose of feeding and clothing the villagers, and were never willingly allowed the life of the wild, for they might injure themselves or feed less than was desirable. I made no answer to these words, and concealed my upset from the female’s eyes. City males, in their vileness, refused freedom to all, enslaving all within their reach. Midanna looked upon herding as an affront to Mida, for the children of the wild were as much the children of Mida as were the Midanna. That we fed upon each other in turn was proper, for in such a way might the strong continue to exist, yet one did not enslave a sister. Such were the actions of the weak and fearful, those who would not try their strength in the forests. Of little worth were city males, and long had I known this.

With half the meat consumed, my hunger was no more, therefore I refused the balance of the offering and lay down upon the furs once again. Tarla’s frown joined those of Lialt and Ceralt, yet the closing of my eyes precluded argument. Should they believe that weakness and pain had once more taken me, I would not disabuse them, for in truth I had not the strength for disagreement. In a moment or two, Tarla urged me to my belly, so that she might see to my hair. Once again was it twisted about itself, yet I said naught upon the matter. When I regained my freedom, my hair, too, would fall free as was proper.

The males continued to converse quietly, Tarla moved about by the fire, and weariness brought sleep to me for a short while. The hum of voices caused strange dreams to surround me as I slept, yet I remembered no more than their strangeness when I was awakened by the sound of a fist upon the wood of the door. My eyes opened to see Lialt rise from his place and approach the door, then open it to admit more than a hand of males. He who had been called Uncle entered first, the others following deferentially behind, and his eyes swept the room and its contents quickly, to rest upon a suddenly wide-eyed Tarla. No word was spoken to the female, yet she hurried to where her leg furs stood, donned them rapidly, then slipped to the door and out. No swing was allowed to the door of the room, and as Tarla pulled it to behind her, so it remained without the aid of a bar. Briefly, then, were the eyes of uncle upon me, dark and calculating, before turning to a still seated Ceralt. The elder male performed a small, stiff bow, duplicated with more enthusiasm by the others, and Ceralt’s hand moved to gesture about him.

“Take seat and join me, Elders,” said he, a relaxed tone to his voice. “You have many questions, I know, and perhaps I shall be able to answer them all. You may question the wench as well, but only with gentleness. She is not yet well enough to stand an inquisition.”

The face of the one called uncle darkened with anger; then another male stepped forward before the first might speak.

“We do not come in hostility, Ceralt,” said this male, mild reproof in his tone. “We come in curiosity, asking no more than the reasons behind the doings of our High Rider. Do you believe we mean harm to the wench?”

Ceralt gazed soberly upon the male who spoke, then he rose to his feet. “No, Garrim, I do not believe you mean her harm,” said he, “yet I have found that words of caution must be spoken when one has dealings with this particular wench. Her manner is such that it is oft times difficult to recall that she is sorely wounded. Come and seat yourselves, men, for I have a narrative I would have you hear.”

With many odd glances for me, the males took seat upon the wood of the floor, ranging themselves to either side of him called uncle, all facing Ceralt where he sat. Ceralt sat alone before them, Lialt having taken a position behind his brother and to his right, toward me, and no indication did Ceralt give that he saw the continuing though unvoiced displeasure of him called uncle. Ceralt settled himself in comfort, and then was his tale forthcoming.

“You all know the reason for my having left the village,” said he to the others, “yet was I, at the time, quite displeased. I knew not why the Snows directed my path in such a manner, yet was I required to comply. I journeyed from the village of my birth, and in time came to the city of Bellinard, a place whose ways are easily learned. We all of us dislike the ways of cities, yet are we somewhat familiar with them, therefore was there little difficulty in securing acceptance in the brotherhood of hunters. I labored among the men of the brotherhood, and in time was given the leadership of hunting parties, the others not having acquired my level of skill.

“For some time, I hunted with the men and sported with their slaves, yet even in sport I wondered as to my purpose in being there. Time spent with slaves is most amusing, but surely that could not have been the reason for my presence.” The other males chuckled at this, though he called uncle did not join their amusement. Again his gaze came to me, then was it quickly withdrawn. I lay within the furs, listening to Ceralt’s tale, awaiting the time I might work toward my release.

“And then a thing occurred which was most unexpected,” continued Ceralt, his light-eyed gaze sliding to me. “I and my hunting party of some twenty men were taken captive by females, large, armed females who called themselves warriors and bore arms as though they were men.”

Lialt joined the other males in exclamations of surprise and incredulity, yet Ceralt did not allow an interruption. “These females,” said he above their voices, “were led by one called Jalav, a wench of great beauty and ability, one who had never known the restraint of a man’s wishes. Wild and untutored was she, a true child of savages; she stood nearly the height of a man, was possessed of black hair and eyes, did not deign to cover her large and tempting breasts, and had been born beneath the sign of the hadat.”

No sound now came from the males, yet the eyes of one and all rested upon me in something much like shock. Lialt alone was sober of face, as though he knew the meaning of Ceralt’s words, yet the others continued to stare in shock.

“Aye,” said Ceralt, nodding as his eyes fixed upon me. “In such a way were we told of a wench who would toil with us to save our people, and though the Snows spoke of her many and many a kalod ago, still do we all easily recall the admonition that we must seek her, for she would not seek us. At once, I knew the wench for what she must be, and determined to return her to our village so that the wish of the Snows might be fulfilled, yet the deciding and the doing were not accomplished with equal ease. ”

The eyes of the males returned to Ceralt as he sighed and shifted about. “The wench,” said he, “was not one who might be expected to obey the wishes of others. She was first and unchallenged among her wenches, and though I succeeded in securing her as a slave, still was there much difficulty with her. At last, she and her wenches were brought to the city of Ranistard, a city which had lost most of its women, and there I attempted to civilize her so that she might have an easier time of adjustment in our village. This attempt, too, was a failure, for she insisted upon incurring the wrath of the High Seat of Ranistard, a man with little understanding of the manner in which a wench should be disciplined. Galiose and I disagreed as to how she was to be treated, I was ejected from Ranistard, and the wench was lashed.”

A familiar hardness and coldness had entered the tone of Ceralt, and those males who looked upon him did so with discomfort. Lialt studied the floor beneath his folded legs, not caring to lift his gaze, and all was silent as the males awaited the continuing of Ceralt’s words. Ceralt took a breath to banish the anger which had held him, and then he continued.

“I was determined to retrieve the wench,” said he, “from the rubble of Ranistard if necessary, yet arrival at the woods near the city showed that the wench had effected her own escape, though not as successfully as one would have wished. Not only had she been lashed to the bone by Galiose, but she had also been set upon by enemy savage wenches, who had touched her many times with their spears. Lialt felt she would die of her wounds, though she did not, and we both feel that her survival is but another indication that she is indeed the one the Snows have spoken of. As I am the one who was sent to fetch her to us, I also feel that the wench was meant for me. As soon as she is well, I shall draw her from the circle of choice, and no man may come between us save at the peril of his life.”

Again was the hardness in Ceralt’s voice, and those before him made no denial of his words. He called Uncle also sat in silence, yet the stiffness of his shoulders spoke well of his anger. He was not pleased with that which he had heard, and it took but a moment for him to find a basis for argument.

“That the wench is the one spoken of by the Snows may well be,” said he, his voice giving the statement no support. “However, I find difficulty in understanding your other contention, Ceralt. Surely it was the High Rider of our village, not a man called Ceralt, who was sent to fetch the girl. Why, then, do you assume that she is to be yours? Perhaps she was meant for another, such as Lialt, our Pathfinder, or Hamiral, my son, who is first among your riders. That it was you who brought her to us proves little.”

“On the contrary, Uncle,” replied Ceralt, holding the attention of the other male. “My having brought her must be proof to all that it is my intention to keep her. I determined that she would be mine when first I saw her, and will allow none to deny me. She is not to be Lialt’s or Hamiral’s, but mine! Are my words clear to you?”

He called Uncle once again fell to anger, yet this time his anger was not contained. “And what of my daughter Famira?” he demanded in a shout, one fist held up before his darkened face. “It was she you were to draw from the circle, not some draggled she-savage! Is she now to be shamed in such a way, discarded before being claimed? Have you no honor?”

“Honor!” echoed Ceralt, rage claiming him as well. “And when, Uncle, was it my announced intention that I would smile upon Famira? The announcement and hope were yours, thinking to see the son of your daughter in the place your own son could not claim! Famira does not tempt me, nor would I have chosen her merely to quiet your insolent tongue! Famira will be chosen by another one, hopefully, who possesses much leather to use upon her! Then might she prove a fitting mate!”

Wordless with outrage, he called Uncle rose to his feet and stormed from the room, causing the door to fall closed behind him with much of a thunder. Ceralt and Lialt and the other males watched him gone, then he called Garrim took a deep breath and chuckled somewhat.

“I, for one, do not regret your words to him, Ceralt,” said he. “He presumes upon his position as your mother’s brother, and such does not sit well with any of us. Perhaps he thought respect for his age would keep him free of your wrath.”

“I do not respect age,” said Ceralt, settling himself in comfort once again. “It is wisdom I respect, Garrim, and only now do I feel that I am in the presence of wisdom. Do my Elders wish to question their High Rider?”

The males before Ceralt looked upon one another soberly, each considering the question put to them, yet it was Garrim who continued to speak.

“As I see it,” said he, “the matter before us is not who the wench shall belong to, but rather to ascertain as thoroughly as possible if she be the one the Snows have spoken of. Are we agreed?”

The others nodded and murmured, no sign of dissention among them, all pleased that Garrim spoke for them. The male was tall and dark, thinner than the others, yet possessed of a dignity that was not lost upon one who saw him. Some gray appeared in his hair, as it did in the hair of the others, yet was his gaze steady rather than infirm. Ceralt nodded in approval of their decision, and smiled warmly.

“Wisdom might ever be counted upon to seek the heart of the matter,” said he. “If it is your wish to speak to the wench, please do so.”

Garrim nodded his thanks, then turned dark, inquiring eyes toward me. A smile lit his thin-boned face, and gentleness entered his tone.

“We have not, as yet, properly welcomed you to our village, girl,” said he, speaking as though he addressed one such as Tarla. “We do not wish you to fear us, for we mean you no harm and shall ask no more than a very few questions. Do you understand me?”

Nearly did I laugh scornfully as I moved myself to sitting upon the furs. “I understand naught at what you say, male,” I asserted with as much vigor as I possessed. “For what reason would one give welcome to a captive in his midst? And for what reason would I fear you? Males have done much to Jalav, yet Jalav fears none of their doing! And should you wish your questions answered, you may first see to the restoration of my freedom!”

Loud exclamations from the males greeted my words, some appearing shocked, others angered, and still others outraged. Lialt coughed gently and without sound, his cupped hand covering his mouth; Ceralt alone sat as he had, his calm unruffled, his light eyes undisturbed. Garrim turned from his startled examination of me, and cleared his throat.

“Of what does she speak, Ceralt?” asked he, nearly in dismay. “What foolishness would prompt her to think herself captive and in need of release?” Again his eyes came to me, and he added, “Have you not heard the words spoken here, girl? Your life remains yours solely through the efforts of Ceralt and Lialt! Had they not found you and tended your wounds, you would surely have died!”

“In no manner did I ask their aid,” said I, my chin held high. “Had they left me as they found me, Mida alone would have seen to my safety, had that been her wish. I now demand release, so that I might return to the lands of my own people. No wish have I to remain among city males.”

Much loathing filled the last of my words, yet the males took them as I had not expected. Knowing looks grew upon their faces, and heads nodded in approval.

“Such feelings are well understood by us,” said one unnamed male. “City men are not the sort we, ourselves, care to associate with, and you may set your concern to rest. You now dwell in a village, girl, where you will be properly cared for.”

“Aye,” said another, his smugness thick as a shield’s breadth. “And have you not heard that you are to be claimed by our High Rider? It is a great honor he does you, an honor many another wench would be awed to receive.”

Many nods of assent came then, yet had I no doubt as to what my responses must be. My right hand upon my left arm to still the throbbing beneath the cloth, I looked most solemnly upon the male who had spoken.

“I wish no part of your concept of honor,” said I, “nor do I wish your High Rider. Both may you keep to bestow upon another, and grant me no more than a cloud’s path.”

Silence surrounded all, heavy silence weighted with deep stares and light breathing. The elder males gazed upon me with disbelief, one or two bridling with insult, most frowning at my choice of words. To ask to be granted a cloud’s path was something of an insult to the dwellers of a land, for a cloud moves lightly above all and at a distance, never deigning to partake of offered hospitality, if any. It was thought by some that clouds were the breath of giants who dwelt upon that rising called Sigurr’s Peak by males, giants who scorned the lands and company of mortals. I, too, wished naught of males and their ways, no more than sthuvad use of them, and such, I believe, was seen by the males before me. My gaze swept them all with a good deal of coldness, bringing stiffness to them and an increase in anger.

He called Garrim studied me closely in his anger, then slowly nodded his head. “Your words were truth, Ceralt,” said he not moving his eyes to the other male. “Indeed, she knows little of the manner in which men are to be addressed. I know not why you would wish to draw one such as her from the circle, but I see a difficulty in your intent. That the wench is unwilling would mean naught were her father here to give his approval, yet her father is not here. How is such a lack to be overcome?”

“Easily, Garrim,” replied Ceralt in such an untroubled voice that my gaze went to him. He sat at his ease, grinning slightly, his light eyes resting upon my face. “The wenches of her clans have no true fathers, yet I have spoken to one named Maranu, who looked upon himself as her father. Gladly and willingly did he grant her to me, pleased that she had at last found favor in a man’s eyes. She goes to the circle with her father’s approval.”

“Maranu is naught to me!” I snapped, irritated beyond bearing by Ceralt’s grin and the light laughter of the others. “The male is naught save one who once stood beneath the protection of the Hosta! Jalav shall not remain in this Mida-forsaken pesthole to be slave to males! Let her freedom be granted now, lest she find the need to seek it later with a sword!”

My words did well to counter the laughter of the males, yet it was not respect for my wrath which then claimed them, but their previous anger. Many growls and mutterings were produced by them, and most stirred angrily where they sat, yet he called Garrim drew himself more fully erect and looked upon me with great disapproval.

“I do not care for your manner, girl,” said he, “nor do I care for your choice of words! Were you not already taken with pain from your wounds, I, myself, would find great pleasure in taking the leather to you! Your comings and goings are the decision of those about you, and the decision has already been made! You have naught to do save answer the questions put to you, civilly, obediently, and promptly! Now! Describe to me the land from which you come, and describe as well the beasts which dwell therein!”

The male sat with blazing eyes, awaiting his answers, the other males also silent now so that my obedient words might be heard. These males, I saw, were no different from others, ever demanding their will from warriors. No fear had I of males, no more filled me at sight of them than a great weariness, for now I must find the need to free myself, as always. I lay back upon the lenga pelt, drawing the covering pelt closer to my chin, raising my eyes to the wooden heights of the dwelling so that I need not gaze longer upon those who cared naught for any save themselves. Another moment of silence was there, and then once more came the voice of him called Garrim.

“Ceralt, her actions are intolerable!” he spat, great agitation upon him. “Order her to reply to me at once!”

There came the sound of leather stirring, and then Ceralt’s voice, no more disturbed than previous. “I doubt that she has the strength to reply,” said Ceralt, and I knew that he looked upon me. “She has already done more than Lialt would have her do, and rest is essential if she is to grow well again. I shall answer your questions if you wish, else it must be left for another time. ”

Again a stirring, as though the males turned to look upon one another, and then a sigh, as of resignation. “Very well,” said Garrim, no longer agitated. “The questioning of the wench shall await another time. There are some few questions we may put to you, Ceralt, and we shall have to satisfy ourselves with those.”

The males returned to the time Ceralt had spent away from them, eliciting details to add to that of which he had already spoken. Ceralt answered without hesitation, giving much time to that which he had observed of the Hosta. The voices, soft and even, refused to hold my attention, and easily did I drift into a light sleep, seeing again the feyd I had spent in Bellinard. I rode free for a time, then great chains were upon me, and males stood about staring at me, each calling, “Slave! Slave!” I writhed and panted in the chains, attempting escape from the hungry eyes of the males, and then the male Bariose and the female Karil came forward, he with the coiled leather whip in his hands, swung gently against his leg, she with her hands clasped before her, a smile of satisfaction upon her face. All about in the great room were metal enclosures filled with slave-women, some whimpering silently, some crying out with arms stretched through the lines of metal, yet none paid them heed. I, and I alone, chained in the center of the room, held their eyes, and there was no escape. She called Karil stepped forward to stroke my hair, and in a voice of silk proclaimed, “Test her heat, my friends! See how great her need is for the touch of a man! Buy her and make her yours!”

“She must be punished!” announced Bariose, his eager hands caressing the lash. “Speak words of apology to your mistress and myself, slave, else shall you feel the kiss of the lash!” All surrounded me, closer and closer, the males with hungry eyes reaching forward to touch me, to bring an agony of desire upon me, and I could not avoid the caress of their fingers. In misery, I threw myself about, moaning from their efforts, and then but one stood before me, a lash in his hand, his fingers hard upon my breast. “You will be mine,” said Nolthis, his fingers tightening to give me pain. “I will use you and use you, and then I will lash you till you obey me. You are mine to do with as I wish.”

“No!” I cried, bending in the chains with the pain so cruelly given. My warriors were gone, and I alone was left among the enemies of Hosta. I writhed and again cried, “No!” and then there was a form behind Nolthis, a form in tan leathers and silver belt, and I cried, “Ceralt!” as the form reached a hand toward Nolthis. Nolthis snarled and whirled toward the form, his hand going to his dagger, and then was I taken by the shoulders and shaken, and my eyes beheld the small wooden dwelling in the village of my capture. Tarla bent to me with great concern, her large eyes troubled, her hands yet upon my shoulders, and easily did I feel the moisture upon my brow and the shakiness in my limbs. My breath came rapidly and with much effort, and I found I must blink before the mists of sleep retreated in entirety.

“Jalav, you cried out!” said Tarla, removing her hands from my shoulders so that she might wring them. “You called so desperately for the High Rider that surely did I think you in true jeopardy! Do you wish me to fetch him?”

“No,” said I, my voice no more than a croak, memory returning of that which had disturbed me. “It was no more than a dream, sent by one other than Mida. The males have gone?”

“Indeed,” she nodded. “Hind ago. You slept soundly when I returned, therefore I took care not to disturb you. Your meal is nearly done, and I shall shortly bring it to you.”

The female Tarla rose from where she had knelt beside me, and returned to the fire where meat and vegetables awaited her attention. Beyond the dwelling’s windows was full darkness, showing that another fey had gone to naught. Wearily, I turned to my belly in the furs, little refreshed by the sleep I had had. Evil dreams and presentiments dogged me in the places of males, as evil as the actions of males themselves. In truth, I knew I had cried out for Ceralt, yet I knew not why I had done so. Ceralt was male, no different from the rest, and foolish indeed would I be to think him otherwise. Often had he betrayed me, often had he brought me pain, and naught did he wish from me save use. My cheek to the furs, I closed my eyes, attempting to ease the throb which had returned to my wounds.

Shortly indeed did Tarla fetch my provender, a mixture of vellin meat, green gemild, fellin tubers, and other, unfamiliar vegetables. All had been cooked as one, a thin broth containing it, and little stomach had I for the concoction. I raised myself to sitting, grimacing inwardly, and proceeded to eat no more than half of that which had been given me. Tarla showed dismay that I would not use the shallow-bowled wooden stick with which to feed, yet I felt little concern over her dismay. To touch with one’s fingers that which Mida provides is no offense, a thing which city folk seemed not to know. I fed as I wished upon that which I wished, and said no word on the matter. Again Tarla showed dismay when I returned the wooden pot to her, still partly filled with that which she had prepared. Earnestly she attempted to wheedle my acceptance of the balance, and desisted at last only when I took my attention from her to examine the bare room in which I lay. No more than the blaze of the fire lit its dimensions, shadows throwing themselves about the walls with its movement, and truly did I dislike the chill feel to the air and the odor of mustiness. Sooner would I have been without, in the cold and dark, than remain the longer in such a place, yet those about me would not see me freed. Anger stirred within me, anger that others ever sought to pen a Hosta, though Hosta had never sought to keep others beneath their sway. Perhaps, when all were freed of male restrictions, the Hosta might add the bondage of these others to the vengeance that was theirs. Such would indeed be fitting.

The door to the darkness opened, admitting Lialt and Ceralt, who came within with naught save silence about them. Little did I need the sight of the cloth packet to know their purpose, yet struggle availed naught. Ceralt held me as Lialt mixed the potion, and again the two males saw the flat, chalky liquid within me. Grimly, with teeth and fists clenched, I attempted to deny the potion, yet denial was not possible. Within reckid, the males had had their way, and deep, dreamless sleep was once again mine.