The Crystals of Mida

2 Islat—and a city is spoken of

The arrival of the new light saw my warriors and myself already mounted in preparation for departure. More than twenty hands in number were we, a force large enough to press an advantageous attack, yet small enough to disguise its presence should it become necessary. My warriors were anxious to be gone, and I was too. Rilas, who had come to bid us farewell, stood beside my gando.

“The fey will be a warm, fair one,” she observed, examining the bright streaks in the slowly lightening sky. “Mida smiles upon your efforts, Jalav.”

“That remains to be seen,” said I, regarding my warriors in their places. Their clan colors about their hips showed them proudly as Hosta, their life signs tied firmly about their necks showed them eager for battle. Their hair, like mine, was bound with war leather, for we rode to recover the Crystal wherever it might be found. “A fey black with the clouds of rain may be fairest of all, Rilas,” I said, “should victory in battle show Mida’s pleasure.”

“True, Jalav.” Rilas smiled, placing her hand upon the binding scale of my gando. “It is when the warriors of Mida ride out in such a manner that I wish I, too, were yet a warrior. The sight stirs my blood, war leader, and brings memories of long ago. Much glory do I wish you, Jalav, and ask Mida’s blessings for you and your quest.”

“We shall return with the Crystal should it be Mida’s will.”

I smiled, then placed my hand briefly upon hers. “See to that of which we have spoken, and perhaps we may one fey speak again.”

She nodded then, and stepped back with a smile, her hand raised in farewell. I looked again at my warriors, felt the proud weight of my shield upon my left arm, the smooth, slim shaft of my spear in my right hand, then nodded too, and struck my gando with my spear. I led my warriors from the camp and we rode forth upon our gandod, perhaps to victory, perhaps to the glory of death in battle, none knew and none cared. It is the privilege of a warrior of the Midanna to ride forth when there is need and desire.

I had considered Bellinard, and therefore led my warriors to the road to Islat. It would be well to seek quiet entrance to Bellinard if possible, therefore we should stop in Islat to exchange gandod for Kand. The gando, while excellent for battle, is feared for its temper and intractability, and never may one be found within the walls of the cities. If we wanted to ride between the gates of Bellinard, it would best be done upon the backs of kand, and kand might be had in Islat. The road to Islat was a short one, a mere four hind in the traveling.

Islat was a village much larger than the Hosta camp, and had found a safety for itself in trade with the Hosta. Little did my warriors require that they were unable to obtain for themselves, yet were there articles such as clan silks and woven goods, candles, arrowheads, and well-made knives, that those of Islat might offer. In turn, we of the Hosta provided pelts of the children of the wild, those that village males and city males feared to seek themselves. The woods and forests looked harshly upon those who had insufficient knowledge of them, and too often had the Hosta found the remains of those who had tried for the pelts and had failed. The Hosta had let it be known that Islat lay beneath our protection, and only once had it been necessary to avenge a raid. A small, independent band of Harra had taken males from Islat, yet there had been little difficulty in tracking them. All six Harra had been taken, the two males released from the leather which bound them, and the Harra, bound themselves, were given over to the remaining males of Islat. The time had been before I had become a warrior, therefore the fate of the six Harra was unknown to me, though it was known well enough to others that Islat had never again been touched in raid.

The new light was high and bright when first we reached the beginning of Islat. The village spread about upon the bank of the Dennin river, which ran east and west through the land of the Hosta. Crossing the Dennin was necessary and fairly easy. All crossings were known to the Midanna, and I, myself, had crossed it while still a warrior. I would cross it now as war leader, and touch its wetness to my forehead as reminder that we rode to battle where wetness of another sort would be expected. Some thought that the wetness of the Dennin would guard against the free running of blood from a wound, and it would be foolish to overlook the possibility.

The males of Islat emerged from their low dwellings to stand in surprise beside their staring slavewomen as we rode through the village to the Headman’s dwelling. Even had the Hosta not traded there the fey previous, the sight of the shields and spears we carried was sufficient to inform them that a thing not often seen was beginning. The slavewomen were ordered within their dwellings with the little ones, and the males accompanied us toward the center of their village, wary and distrustful, and keeping their distance from my warriors and our gandod. I smiled at their actions as I rode, reflecting that the distance they kept would hardly have seen to their safety had it been their village against which we rode. The farthest of them was still well within reach of our spears.

Maranu, Headman of Islat, stood before the entrance to his dwelling, awaiting us. Although he did not retreat before the snapping snouts of our dancing gandod, he seemed tense. He wished to know why we rode in such numbers to his village, for never had he seen such a thing. Strangely, he had been Headman for many kalod, and remained Headman in spite of his graying hair. Perhaps his still-strong figure allowed for this, perhaps the vigor he retained did. Or perhaps he was most aided in that the males of Islat had no battles to face—the youth of the warriors of the Hosta stood protection for them and their village. I reined in my gando, and gazed down upon him.

“We of Islat make you welcome, war leader,” said he in a tone which neither took nor gave. “May we do a service for you and your warriors?”

“Indeed, Maranu.” I smiled to ease his tension. “The Hosta ride to battle, yet we need to trade for a small number of kand.”

“Always are we honored to trade with the Hosta,” Maranu replied with a smile of his own. The other males about him seemed relieved to learn that we came for naught save trade. “Would Jalav care to step down and accept the poor warmth of my home?” Maranu offered.

I wanted to get on with our journey, but it would be discourteous to refuse the offer. “Maranu is most kind,” I said, giving to Larid, who rode beside me, my shield and spear. “I shall be pleased to share the warmth of his home.”

I slid from my gando, then walked to where Maranu waited. His dark eyes were on a level with mine, and it pleased me that they did not avoid my gaze. Many of the males who stood about looked nervously down as my gaze brushed them, remembering, perhaps, the sport my warriors may have had with them at some time.

Maranu stepped aside, motioning with his arm that I was to precede him to his dwelling. Never would I allow one who was not of the Hosta to remain behind me, yet it was necessary to do such a thing in Islat. Their customs were not like those of the Midanna, and for the sake of peace, I must follow them. Therefore I preceded Maranu into his dwelling.

The dwelling was of rude wooden logs rather than leather, and was divided within to form more than a single room. One entered a room given over to strange odors and stale air, a large fire, and the clutter of many objects, all of which were used in the partaking of food and drink. Many pots of various sizes were ranged about the room, yet none stood upon the small, legless platform which was positioned beneath the wide window in the left wall. I went to the platform as I knew was expected of me, and sat easily upon the dirt floor beside it. Maranu, directly behind me, took his place upon the floor on the other side of the platform, then turned to his slavewoman.

“Bring daru for our guest and myself, Yereh,” he said to the woman. “There is trading which must be discussed between us.”

The woman turned obediently to the large pot of daru which stood to one side of the room. She wore a garment which covered all of her. Maranu himself wore no more than a brief cloth about his loins, a comfort of dress which village men did not permit to their slavewomen. They jealously guarded the sight of their women’s bodies, thinking, perhaps, that to gaze upon them would cause such bodies to fade from view. The fact that the bodies of the Midanna did not fade from view was a lesson doubtless lost upon them.

Two pots of daru were brought by the woman, and were placed upon the platform between Maranu and myself. The daru had not been brewed to warmth as was the custom of the Midanna, for those of the village disliked the added potency brewing produced, and therefore drank it as it was in its fermenting pot. Though unbrewed daru was little more than flavored water, males liked it. Long since had the Hosta taken to adding the sthuvad drug to it for captured males, and never had a sthuvad disliked its taste to the point of rejecting it.

I sipped courteously from my pot of daru, then looked about to see that Maranu’s slavewoman still stood before the platform, her eyes upon me, a determined expression upon her aging face. Her hands twisted briefly together before her, then one hand went to where her life sign should rest, and the other to her hair which was braided and tied in obedience to the will of males.

“Maranu, not again,” she whispered, her eyes hard upon me. “The trading was to be done for the time, and this one is war leader! Please, Maranu, not again!”

“Yereh, Jalav is our guest,” Maranu scolded gently. “The trading will be brief, as the Hosta ride to war.”

Yereh’s eyes closed briefly, as though from the pain of memory. She stepped to Maranu and knelt beside him, then circled him with her arms as her head rested upon his chest.

“Maranu, she is war leader,” Yereh wept as Maranu held her close to him. “Have you not been shamed enough? Must you endure this thing as well?”

“My lovely Yereh,” Maranu crooned, stroking her hair to give her comfort, “my shame has always been yours to endure. Do not agonize, Yereh. All shall soon be done with, and again my arms will hold you alone. Leave us now, that the trading may be seen to properly.”

Yereh clung to him a moment longer, then hurried to the curtain which led to the next room.

“Forgive her, Jalav,” Maranu said. “She has never accustomed herself to the needs of trading. What number of kand do you require?”

“But one hand shall suffice,” said I, sipping again from the pot of daru. “She knew me as war leader, yet never have I seen her before. How is it that she knew I lead the Hosta in battle?”

“She must have seen your shield before you entered,” Maranu replied. “We have the kand, and ask only five lenga pelts in return.”

I replaced the pot of daru and smiled. “A hand of lenga pelts would fetch us more than two hands of kand,” I informed him. “I offer one lenga pelt, and six freshly killed nilnod.”

“We have meat aplenty.” He shrugged. “Four lenga pelts.”

“Two pelts,” I countered, “and we shall keep the nilnod to feed us upon our journey. What shame did your slavewoman speak of?”

“She is not a slave!” he returned angrily. Then his gaze dropped to the platform, and he said with difficulty, “Three pelts and the thing is done. The kand are prime stock, well worth the pelts.”

Again I felt my lack of understanding of males. It had almost seemed that had Maranu had a weapon, he would have been foolish enough to draw it. His anger was without reason, and I wished to know why.

“Maranu,” said I, “it was not my intention to offer insult. I merely asked of the shame spoken of.”

He glared at me again, and finished his daru quickly, with determination.

“Very well!” he said abruptly. “I shall speak of the shame, yet must you remember that it was not I who first asked of it! Always am I shamed when I must trade with the Hosta, for my manhood is forced from me along with my goods! The warriors of the Hosta demand my body and those of my men each time they come, and should we refuse, our women and children may stand victim for us! Yet are we men, war leader, and do not care to be used by women!”

I considered his words, confused. For what reason would the males of Islat dislike being used by Hosta? Nearly all of them had slavewomen, therefore the act was not unknown to them.

“The Hosta are ugly to the men of Islat?” I asked. “The males of Islat feel repelled by them?”

“No, no!” He laughed, as though surprised. “The Hosta are far from ugly, and the men of Islat feel great desire when gazing upon them. Yet it is not a matter of desire. It is more—” He paused, searching for the proper words, then smiled and shook his head. “You are very young, war leader,” he said quite gently. “Perhaps a greater age shall bring you understanding of men and their ways. Three lenga pelts and the thing is done.”

“Two lenga pelts,” I said, feeling no younger than he. I, too, led my people, and no war leader is known to have grown gray in her position as had Maranu. “You may recover the difference when the kand are returned to you in trade.”

“The kand are to be returned?” he said. “Then they are not for battle.” He paused briefly to consider this, and then nodded. “Very well,” he agreed. “Two lenga pelts against the return of the kand in trade.”

The trade was agreed to and done, sealed as we spat upon the backs of our right hands, and pressed our fists together, binding the trade as our spittle mingled. Maranu’s fist was larger than mine and more squarely made, seemingly shaped for the weapons it so rarely grasped. Should age be the only thing to bring understanding, I would undoubtedly be long beside Mida before I understood.

Maranu withdrew his fist from mine, then rose to his feet. “Our trading is done, and naught is left save the last requirement,” said he with a strange look about him. “There would be little shame to the matter, Jalav—were you not war leader. Come to the mat with me, war leader, and I shall soon be ready for you.”

He turned about and strode to a wide, woven mat that lay before the fire, while I remained seated. He seemed to feel no shame at the thought of my touch, yet I was able, in a small way, to see his difficulty. A warrior of the Midanna might take from or receive from a male as she wished, yet a war leader was forbidden to receive from him. A war leader must only take from a male, and Maranu, for some reason, did not wish to be taken from. His woman had known at once that he would be taken, and her distress had been clear to any with eyes. Though I lacked understanding of their feelings, I was not without feeling of my own. Maranu was no passing sthuvad, and little point was there in observing the customs of the village merely to give insult to its Headman in his own dwelling. Therefore I rose easily and stepped forward.

“I thank Maranu for his offer,” I said, “yet must I, with regret, refuse it. My warriors and I have a distance to travel, and the journey were best begun quickly. Perhaps, should Mida continue to smile upon her warrior, another time may see the thing done.”

Maranu, standing beside the mat, paused in removing the cloth from about his loins, raised his eyes from a frown, then slowly replaced the cloth. He gazed upon me with such pain, that I believed I had insulted him. I was about to repair the error, when he spoke.

“Jalav,” said he, coming to place his hands upon my shoulders, “indeed are you the highest among the Hosta. Yet you are so young—!” Deep was his sigh, and deeply felt. “Should your Mida not smile upon you, I shall feel the loss most keenly. Would that you were my daughter that I might see you safely beside a man of my choice!”

I stepped back stiffly. “Maranu had best remember that I am guest within his dwelling!” I replied, stung that he would speak so to me. “It would be the act of a boorish host to force his guest to the necessity of spilling blood!”

Maranu seemed startled a moment, then he laughed with hearty good cheer. “I beg your pardon, war leader,” he said with a wide grin. “It was not my intention to insult you. I surely know of no man with whom you might be paired. I shall personally see to the selection of the kand, and offer the comfort of my dwelling for your use.”

He stepped back with a small bow, and I watched him depart, sure that he had made sport of me in some way. His words betrayed naught save apology, yet his manner....

“War leader.” I turned at the softly spoken words, and beheld Yereh beside the entrance to the other room. Her dark eyes held gratitude, and she smiled most gently. “War leader, I would offer my thanks for your not having stabbed at the pride of my man,” she said. “The gesture was small, yet required a great warrior in the doing. I ask Mida’s blessings for you, and shall speak to the skies of your wisdom.”

“You have the sound to you of the Midanna,” I observed, studying her, “but surely this cannot be.”

She reddened somewhat, and lowered her head. “I was of the Midanna,” she whispered, her hand going to where her life sign would lie. “I was of the Harra, but was taken by the Hosta for raiding, and given as captive to this village.” She seemed pained. “I have been here many kalod, yet have I never forgotten the ways of the Midanna.”

“Why do you remain?” I asked, surprised to learn she had once been a warrior. She seemed no different from the other slavewomen of the village, although I then realized that she had known me by the presence of the second silver ring of the war leader.

“At first, I remained because Maranu held my life sign.” She smiled, somehow amused by so terrible a fate. “Though he beat me when I disobeyed him, I could not return to the Harra without my life sign. I planned for long and long, searching for an opportunity to recover it, and then, at last, I did. Then I discovered, upon its recovery, that Maranu held my heart, war leader, and with my life sign upon my breast, I found that I could not leave him. He beat me soundly when he discovered that I had taken my life sign from him, but he has never beaten me since. My life is his, till the day that Mida calls.”

“It is difficult to see how Mida might allow such a thing,” I said, shocked that a warrior would fail to return to her clan when she was able. “Perhaps Mida was offended by you in some way.”

“Perhaps.” She nodded. “And yet there is another possibility. Perhaps Mida found herself particularly pleased with me. It is the first thing I shall ask when Mida’s throne is before me.”

“You are wise in your choice of First Question,” I said, pleased that it was Mida’s lot, and not mine, to answer her. The strange odors and stale air of the dwelling disturbed me, so I went out to return to my warriors. The village males still stood about, some inspecting my warriors, some avoiding their eyes. My warriors waited at ease, many inspecting the village males in turn, some regarding the passage of the light with impatience. I, too, felt impatience, so led my warriors to the enclosure that contained the village’s kand. Maranu and two other males had chosen the hand of required kand, and had made a string of them with a long length of leather. The kand were frightened when one of my warriors rode close upon her gando to take the end of the leather, yet were easy to manage. The warrior led them to the rear of our host, and so as far as possible from the gandod they feared, and two lenga pelts were thrown to the feet of Maranu. The two males with him quickly and carefully lifted the pelts from the dirt, brushing at the long, magnificent fur, both of the color of golden light. Village males seem more than fond of lenga pelts, and do not understand why the Hosta do not use such pelts themselves. Yet when one has fought the lenga in the forests, it is truly a slap to Mida herself to debase so glorious a fighter when the battle is done. The lenga is the life sign of many of the Midanna, as the hadat is mine, and its pelt is only used for things the Midanna must have. The living evidence of a life sign should not be casually slighted.

Maranu examined the pelts, then turned to me with a smile. “A matched pair,” said he in approval. “The two are indeed the worth of three. Even should the kand not be returned in trade, Jalav, I shall consider the matter equitably seen to.”

“I am pleased you are satisfied,” I said. “May Mida guard you and your people till our return.”

I raised my hand in farewell, as did Maranu, then led my warriors past the kan enclosure toward the river. The crossing I wanted to use was not far distant. The two males who had stood beside Maranu had seemed surprised and a bit uncertain at my words to the Headman. The Hosta, though often riding to battle, did not commit their entire number to a venture, nor did they leave Islat unprotected. Now, should it become necessary, the males of Islat must fight to protect themselves till the Hosta returned. Perhaps the males did not care overmuch for such an eventuality.

Islat was long out of sight when we paused for the crossing. My warriors and I would cross in four sets, the first set being the most dangerous position. Should an enemy be waiting on the far side, those of the first set might be downed with arrows before they were able to reach the bank and draw blade. Some small help might be had from the bows of the warriors who had yet to cross, therefore were bows strung and arrows nocked as I rode with the first set toward the water.

The river was warm yet refreshing after our ride, and our gandod entered it eagerly, pleased to be allowed its wetness. We swam the distance across, our shields held before us, our spears above the water level, our eyes moving constantly to catch the first sign of movement from the opposite shore. From the middle of the river I dabbed the wetness on my forehead, and each of my warriors did the same. Then the far bank was reached and the next set began the swim as the warriors about me watched carefully that we might not be taken by surprise. The kand, in the care of two warriors rather than one, crossed in the third set, and soon stood shivering in our midst. The fourth set came and joined us, and we paused to feed before continuing on.

Nilnod do taste as good raw as when cooked, and sufficient had been slain so that we and the gandod might feed to our fill. Midanna rarely cook meat when on the move, for a fire, like a tent, announces one’s presence to enemy and quarry alike. The kand ate only the grass beneath their feet, and that nervously and with poor appetite. Kand are delicate beasts, and I was afraid they might die before we reached Bellinard, therefore I directed a hand of my warriors to ride ahead with them, leaving their gandod, so that the odor and presence of gandod might be spared the beasts. My warriors didn’t like this but obeyed, and our journey north continued with purpose.

The land through which we traveled was unfamiliar. The feyd were as warm as those to which we were accustomed, yet the dark was colder. Through forests empty of all life save that of the children of the wild we rode, and saw no dwellings even far from our lane of passage. A strange peace was upon us, strange in that though we rode to battle, our minds were free and without care, there in the vast forests, beneath the skies of Mida. My warriors laughed much among themselves, joking lightly with each other as we went farther and farther. Although few might return to the home tents of the Hosta, we were happy.

At dark upon the eleventh fey, we halted as always to take our final meal, and then to seek our sleeping leather. The kills of the fey were being divided when the abrupt return of the hand of relieving warriors for the kand surprised me. No longer had they the meat they had taken with them, and their haste seemed an omen of ill tidings.

“War leader!” gasped the first of them breathlessly as she slid from her gando before me. “Our warriors have been taken captive—by males!”

All within hearing muttered angrily, and I demanded of her, “How many?”

“Four hands was I able to count,” she panted, her life sign rising and falling with each breath she took. “They fell upon our warriors from the trees, nearly before our eyes. There was no hope for battle with the others already taken, therefore we returned here.”

“A wise decision,” I commended her, my hand upon her shoulder. “Should these males be those in possession of the Crystal of Mida, we would not care to have any of them escape us. Two sets will be ample to see to them.” I turned to another warrior. “Sets one and four shall accompany me, sets two and three remain here. Inform the others.”

Unhappily, she nodded, then turned away to pass on my word. She was not of set one or four, therefore would be left behind. Not many reckid was it before the sets were formed, and I led my warriors on foot toward where our sisters had been taken, the five relieving warriors showing the way. Quickly and silently we moved between the trees, flowing with the light from the Entry to Mida’s Realm, making no greater disturbance than the light itself. Carefully we watched for posted sentries; however, the males had not seen fit to provide such. As we sighted them within a clearing, about the forms of our warriors, I smiled, realizing that they would soon regret their foolishness.

Indeed four hands in number were the males, big and well-made, yet covered as were all city males in garments that reached to the middle of their thighs. My warriors grinned at the sight of them, for never had we taken males in such numbers. These males would provide much sport if they had not stolen the Crystal. They stood between two fires, in a tight circle about our warriors, who had been stripped of their weapons and bound, and as we neared, we heard their laughter.

“A fine catch,” one of them laughed, walking forward to a pale-haired warrior, releasing the war leather which held her hair at the base of her neck. She struggled against the leather which kept her wrists behind her, and again the male laughed. “Do not tire yourself so, little lovely,” he chided gently. “There will be other things to take what strength you have. I will ask yet again, and this time expect an answer: what do you and these others do here in these woods all alone? From whence do you come and for what purpose?”

My pale-haired warrior held his eyes, yet she spoke not a word in answer. Indeed, I would have been surprised if she had. The high, excited chirp of a lellin told me that the males were surrounded, therefore I stepped farther into the clearing.

“You are mistaken,” I said quite clearly, causing the males to whirl toward me in surprise. “They are not alone.”

The males reached for the swords they wore, but my warriors stepped from the trees, bows bent and arrows hard upon targets a warrior might not easily miss. The males looked about themselves and saw their deaths clearly in many places. I stood beyond the fires they had lit, my arms folded beneath my life sign, prepared to order them feathered should they refuse to yield. They then looked to the male who had been questioning my warrior. He nodded his head sourly, and all of the males threw down their weapons. Two hands of my warriors put down their bows, went quickly to the males, then took the lengths of leather we had fetched with us for the purpose, and bound them well. My five warriors who had been captured were released, and they joined in examining the prisoners.

“You had an excellent reason for remaining silent,” the male who had questioned the light-haired warrior said to her, a rueful expression upon his broad, dark face. “Might I now know the reason for so many lovely girls abroad in these woods?”

My warrior smiled and looked toward me, and the captive looked upon me also. He was dark complexioned yet had light eyes, with dark brows beneath unruly, dark hair. He and the others had shorn their hair to well above their shoulders, showing that they felt shame in its appearance. City males truly have no souls.

“We travel to see Bellinard,” I said, smiling at the discomfort the male appeared to be experiencing. “Is it yet far distant?”

“Merely a three-fey ride to the northwest,” he said, his eyes beginning to blaze as they inspected me. “We are hunters from there, my lovely, and I would assure you that these woods are not safe. My men and I have been well punished for our laxity in guarding ourselves; now must we be released so that we may see to the safety of all of you. I would not have the beasts rend your bodies while we lie here helpless.”

I laughed lightly at his words. He sought to make Hosta fear the forests, thinking us, no doubt, sisters to the slavewomen of his city. I raised my eyes from him to note the return of the warriors I had sent to seek the mounts of the males. The leader of them informed me that the Crystal of Mida was not among the goods the males carried, and I was not surprised. The thieves of the Crystal would know well the appearance of Hosta clan colors, and would have little need to question the presence of Hosta in their vicinity. These males were innocent of the theft, and therefore free for the taking.

“Enough of this foolishness, girl!” the male leader snapped. “I know not from whence you come, nor do I care! You have had your amusement at our expense, now you shall release us and return our weapons! At once!”

In the mutter of agreement from the others, his gaze was sharp and strong upon me, his anger doing much to counter his desire for me. The flickering light of the fires illuminated him but partially, but I was able to see his strength. I removed my swordbelt and crouched, then placed my band upon his covering.

“Is your body truly so ugly that it must be hidden?” I asked softly, stroking my hand down his side to his bare thigh. “Surely your comfort would be greater if this were removed?”

His consternation consumed him so, he did not seem to hear the gentle laughter of my warriors. His eyes widened at the caress, and he moved beneath my hand, then smiled hungrily, and his voice turned husky.

“I had not expected this,” he said, his chest rising higher with his breathing. “Free me quickly, girl, and I shall remove the covering the moment we have reached the darkness beyond the fires. You shall be well seen to in the darkness, this I swear!”

“I much prefer the light,” I said, “and I should be pleased to remove the covering from you as you are.”

He blinked at the dagger in my hand, then rolled about in protest as I brought it to his covering. “No!” he shouted, attempting to free himself from the leather which bound him. “There is no need for this! I have not refused you!”

“Nor shall you,” I murmured, applying my dagger to the side of his covering. Easily it split open from neck to waist to thigh, and a sigh of appreciation escaped from my warriors as the covering was moved aside. Amid the silence of the other males, the captive moved in fury, his hard, broad body before us, in no manner ugly. I replaced my dagger in its leg bands, then placed both hands upon him.

“Perhaps you feel a chill in the air of darkness,” I murmured, my hands and eyes exploring him with pleasure. “I shall not allow you to remain cold long.”

I brought my lips to his firm, flat belly, pressing them there, then moving them about. The male moaned with his arousal, nor was it he alone who moaned. The eyes of the other males were upon us, some raised up as best they might to see better. The smell of a male in need was strong, and the captive, his skin coarse with hair, writhed beneath my hands.

“No,” he protested weakly, his head moving back and forth, attempting to deny his need. “Release me and I shall see to you. I swear it!”

“You find no interest in me as you are?” I asked, and then placed my knees across and to either side of him. Slowly I leaned down, sliding a short way onto his thighs, the tips of my breasts brushing his hair-covered chest. “Shall I then choose another of your males to give me pleasure? Which of them should it be?”

“Me!” cried one of the males in a choked voice, moving hard in the leather which bound him. “Come to me, girl. I shall not disappoint you!”

I gazed down upon the captive beneath my hands and thighs, then leaned farther down so that my hair fell across my left shoulder and brushed him. “I see there is one who would be pleased to have me use him,” I murmured, exciting myself further in the feel of my breasts against his chest. “I shall go to him, then, and allow you your chill solitude.”

I moved against him slowly, then made as if to rise from him. His breath came harder and harder still, his head tossed about, his light eyes blazed with the agony of his need, and surely, had he been free, he would have pulled me to him with fingers like stone.

“No!” he choked out abruptly, his body attempting to rise after me. “Do not go to another!”

“You wish me to remain?” I said, reaching behind my neck as I sat upon him, so that I might free my hair from the war leather holding it close. “You must then ask me nicely.”

Deep in his throat he growled in fury, yet his skin burned beneath my own. He held my eyes as his teeth clenched, and his shoulder muscles tightened in desperate attempt to free himself, but he had been bound expertly. I waited a scant moment, then shrugged and again made as if to leave him.

“No!” he gasped yet again, fear of being left unseen to turning him wilder still. “I—wish you to remain with me.”

“So that I might use you?” I prompted softly, leaning to him slightly, my hands gentle upon his ribs.

A sound, nearly a sob of desperation, escaped his lips, and his eyes closed to curtain his pain. “So that—you might—use me,” he whispered, the words choking him terribly. Part sigh, part moan came from others of the males, and I smiled and moved to the captive’s thighs, taking possession of him to feed my own high excitement. Quite hard did he move, attempting to use me, yet this I would not allow. He had asked that I use him, and this I did and well. More than once was he drained, and the amusement and encouragement of my warriors sounded out above his grunts of release. When my satisfaction was complete, I rose to my feet and reclaimed my swordbelt, then spoke to Larid, who stood near to me.

“Use the others as far as they will go,” I directed as she grinned, “then force upon them the sthuvad drug so that none of our warriors might be excluded. We have three feyd yet before we shall reach Bellinard. Let us put the darkness to use.”

My warriors laughed happily at my words, then they turned to the males. Cries of protest came from the males as their coverings were removed, and soon all were busily engaged at the hands of hungry warriors. The pale-haired warrior who had been questioned stood above the captive I had used, staring down upon him with a faint smile evident upon her slender face. The captive looked upset. He would not, I knew, ask to be used again, yet a warrior need not be asked. A Warrior took what she wished, finding no need to be asked.

A strong watch had been posted about the clearing, and I took those warriors who would not soon use the males, and returned to our camp. Word of males to be had spread quickly to those warriors who had been left behind, and there was much bustling and preparation. I gave orders that all kand, ours and those of the prisoners, were also to be brought to the camp where the males were, then cut for myself a good slice of nilno. A taste of daru would have been pleasant, yet was daru ever left behind when the Hosta moved to battle. I made do with water from the skins, smiled at the excitement of my warriors, then took to my sleeping leather. The strong male smell of the captive was still upon me, and I savored it till sleep claimed me.