“I have been taught the folly of failing to remain alert,” said I, the pain of his grip turning my voice husky. “Had I had my wits about me, the presence of males in the forest would have been easily detected.”
Lialt growled in anger, yet Ceralt showed a grin of amusement. “Still she remains untamed,” said he, his eyes never leaving my face. “She has much to learn, and the time is long past for the teaching of it. Let us, in some small measure, begin.”
Lialt stepped aside as Ceralt guided me to the door of my dwelling and within, and then followed to close the door behind the three of us. The warmth of the dwelling was so welcome that I began trembling, and Ceralt released my hair to walk from me to the fire.
“Soon deep winter shall be upon us, brother,” said he as he stretched his palms toward the flames. “How much longer before we may begin the journey?”
“Matters move more swiftly toward the moment,” replied Lialt, walking to join Ceralt at the fire. “The sednet is not yet among us, though the flame approaches with good speed. Once most have been brought together, the journey may begin.”
“Good,” nodded Ceralt, looking upon his brother. “Read the Snows as often as is safe for you, and name the time when it has become clear.”
The two males warmed themselves by the fire, a thing I, myself, would have wished to do had they not been present. Much had the cold gone deeply in my bones, yet sooner would I remain as I was than join them where they stood. I wrapped my arms about me to still the shivering and crouched down where I had been left, ranting silently over the presence of the other males without the dwelling. My hand stole to my hair where Ceralt had gripped it, yet naught was amiss save a sore scalp. The male had previously taken me by the hair so, yet never had his grip been so tight and demanding. Changes had occurred in the male Ceralt, yet none which would find approval in the eyes of a warrior.
“It is my place to read the Snows,” agreed Lialt near the fire, “yet the place is one I prefer keeping alone. I have no need of unskilled assistance to hamper my searches.”
“Of what do you speak?” frowned Ceralt, searching Lialt’s face for a hint of meaning. “There are none within the village who are potential Pathfinders.”
“We are now blessed with one,” returned Lialt with dryness, moving his gaze to me. “She helped herself to my pipe and sack, and went happily advancing through the Snows of tomorrow with girlish glee and enthusiasm. When I attempted to retrieve her, she refused my will, and I was forced to blend our spirits in order to return.” Here Lialt paused, and though he took no notice of my bristling anger, he looked upon a furious Ceralt shamefacedly. “It is also my place to know one who has the ability to walk the Snows,” said he in a quiet manner. “In this I have failed you, Ceralt, and nearly was the girl lost.”
“My disappointment in your failure is deep, Lialt,” said the larger male, causing Lialt’s face to darken and his head to lower. “There are few a High Rider may depend upon, and surely his Pathfinder should be one and his brother a second. When the two are one, disappointment is sharper, stronger, more painful. That the wench is willful and ever angering you should not have kept you from knowing her abilities.”
Ceralt’s voice had been uncompromisingly grim, and Lialt had made no answer, nor had he again met Ceralt’s eyes. The larger male turned to gaze into the fire, yet abruptly he looked again upon Lialt with a frown.
“The point had nearly passed me by,” said Ceralt to a brother who gazed upon the wood of the floor. “Early this fey, you walked the Snows to bring me the message I was meant to have, yet you were forced to walk them again to retrieve the wench. How close did you come to being unable to return yourself?”
Lialt, in discomfort, raised his eyes and moved a hand in negation. “There was very little resistance,” said he, his tone dismissing the thought. “Although Pathfinders have been known to be forever lost if they walk the Snows more often than once each fey, the need to bring the girl to safety overrode the will of my spirit to remain. The Clouds of Seeing did not blind me to the passage of time, for I knew not how long she had been upon the Snows.”
“Purely a matter of good fortune all the way about,” growled Ceralt, and his gaze came to me where I crouched with my arms about me. The flames danced in the silver of his belt, yet the coldness of the dark had entered his eyes. “Remove your boots,” said Ceralt to me. “Your willfulness has nearly caused disaster to all, and this time punishment shall not be kept from you.”
Beneath his stare, I could do naught save remain in my crouch. So large was the male, so uncaring in his anger, and no weapon was there for Jalav to put hand to. A scant moment did he wait, and then he strode to me and pushed me to the floor.
“You shall learn obedience,” he glared, “Sigurr take me if you do not!” His hands, as he spoke, pulled the fur leg-wrappings from me, and Lialt’s eyes did not leave us. With the leg wrappings removed, Ceralt’s large hands took hold of my arms, and once again I stood upon the worn, gritty wood of the floor. Great was the anger of the male before me, yet the turning of my insides shamed me more than had he. In fury at myself and at the male who had caused me to feel so, I struggled in his grip and met his light, blazing eyes.
“Jalav obeys no male!” I hissed, feeling the pain of the strands of my hair caught beneath his hands. “Thrice have I felt the touch of a lash, and should it be Mida’s will, I shall bear it a fourth time! Go and fetch your lash, male! No more than my blood shall it take from me!”
The fury rose high in me, memory strong of the pain I had had at the hands of males. No more than pain do males seek to give, for pleasure is to be kept for them alone. Ceralt’s eyes had narrowed, disturbance showing clearly within them, and Lialt left the fire to come and place a hand on his brother’s shoulder.
“Ceralt, she does not feign her hatred,” said Lialt, his tone uneven. “It sickens me to think of that which must have been done to her to make her so. That the hatred shows only with her fear disturbs me even more, for that indicates how deeply it is buried. Though I have often counseled her punishment, I now feel that gentleness may be the only path to the healing of her soul.”
Lialt’s light eyes were deeply saddened, yet Ceralt stood before me, his head ashake. “She has not yet learned to accept gentleness from men,” said he, his voice heavy as his eyes searched deep within me. “Should she be given gentleness, she will see it as no more than weakness, something to be scorned. Once I gave her gentleness and love, and she pushed me aside in her thoughts and went about seeing to her own will. Not again will I be pushed aside so, looked upon fondly but without respect. I will have the respect of the woman who is mine, and I will have her obedience as well. She will not be lashed, but she will be punished.”
So firmly had Ceralt spoken that Lialt removed his hand from his brother’s shoulder and returned to the fire, standing and staring into its depths, his back to us. Ceralt yet had his gaze upon me, the unruly lock of dark hair again upon his forehead, desire and determination strong in his eyes. His tone had held bitterness when he had spoken of gentleness and respect, as though there were memories within him which had given pain. I had no understanding of what pain he felt, and he did not speak of it again. He merely seated himself cross-legged upon the floor, and pulled me to his lap and arms.
“Jalav, listen carefully,” said he, his arms about me holding me to his chest. “You know well enough that I have never lashed you, nor will I ever do so. You, however, must learn that a man’s word is not to be refused, else shall punishment be brought to you. You have refused the will of Lialt, and you have refused my will. Now shall punishment come to you through your own actions.”
Gentle indeed had been the tone of Ceralt, yet his hand then went to his belt and withdrew a length of leather. As I had sat in his arms and against his chest, the smell of him strong, the strength of him compelling, a weakness had stolen over me, one that I had felt before when beside the male. Much had his close presence stirred my blood, flashing through the center of my being with desire for him, smothering the anger and the fury and the will to depart. Well did I remember the gentleness he had spoken of, yet gentleness was a thing no warrior might remember when about the business of Mida. Surely Ceralt knew that! I raised my eyes to his face and regarded him, he who was so strong and broad and appealing to a warrior. His eyes were again upon me, and when our eyes met, his lips lowered to mine in a touch which was both strong and gentle at one time. He crushed me to him, taking my lips fiercely, and then was I turned about and held for the leather. My flesh had been bared for its coming, and come it did, the strength of Ceralt’s arm well behind each stroke. I writhed and struggled in humiliation, knowing the leather harder than the lash on a warrior’s pride, yet there was no escape from that which Ceralt wished for me. When he felt the matter well done, I was released and placed upon my lenga pelt, and I clung to the hairs of the pelt with my fists, burying my face deep, so that none might see me in my humiliation. Ceralt went to the fire and spoke softly to Lialt, and the second male left, only to return long reckid later. Still was I unable to look upon him, for the ache and sting of the leather had not eased much, yet the choice was taken from me. Ceralt pulled me from the fur and held me for the pot Lialt had, and once more the potion took all consciousness from me.