“Best you quiet that braying and get yourself mounted,” Telion said quietly as he handed me the rein of a lanthay. “Ceralt sees no humor in this fiasco, and would not take kindly to your amusement. Though I must admit that I have rarely seen anything funnier.”
The male warrior looked down upon me with a grin fixed well upon his face, and we both laughed at the shouting and screaming and churning of snow. All about us was a true bedlam, and Ceralt worked feverishly to quiet all concerned. Of those who stood about, including Lialt, he directed the temporary pairing with a male who could not get his female mounted. The two working together, one to hold the lanthay, one to lift the female, soon saw all of the females upon the backs of mounts, and males at last sought their own mounts, wiping sweat from foreheads with hands which seemed much wearier than previous. I turned to the lanthay I had been given, grasped its fur in both hands, then vaulted to its back with very little effort. The lanthay danced beneath me as I sought and found a proper seat, and Ceralt stalked angrily back to take possession of his own mount.
“Curse Hannil and his insistances!” he muttered darkly as he leapt to the back of his lanthay. “Wenches must be brought, yet they cannot be ridden behind their men lest their presence prove catastrophic should the need to fight arise! Were this journey not so desperately urgent, I would send those wenches straight back to their hearths, damn me if I would not!”
He then jerked upon his rein so hard that his lanthay squealed and reared, yet truthfully, I could not fault him for his anger. The females, now mounted, were no less a problem than they had been. They clung fearfully to the fur of the lanthay, most bent over, some sobbing their fear aloud, and it was easily seen that they would be unable to ride or control the beasts through their own efforts. The males looked about at one another helplessly, then wearily dismounted and began bringing pack lanthay forward. To each female’s left a pack lanthay was secured to the neck of the lanthay she rode, and then the males remounted and moved their own lanthay to the right of their females. In such a way were they able to lead both pack lanthay and female’s lanthay, and the female was somewhat comforted by the presence of more than the hard, distant ground to either side of her. Lialt rode ahead to open a gate in the far side of the enclosure, and the sky began to show the first touches of pink as the last of us rode through. I rode beside Telion, who sat upon his own lanthay, and had turned to look behind me only long enough to raise an arm in farewell to Tarla, who had climbed the enclosure to watch our departure. Tarla had raised her own arm, shyly and with reluctance, and had wept and left her place when Lialt had touched his palm to his lips to her. Lialt looked longingly after her a moment, then closed the enclosure and rode with Telion and me, and the journey so often spoke of by so many was finally, if not quite easily, begun.
The fey grew clear and bright, the skies pale blue above us, the snow blindingly white beneath the hooves of our lanthay. A good deal of the cold was dispelled by the motions of riding, with some assistance from Mida’s light, and the lanthay proved a not unattractive beast. Instantly responsive to the touch of knees and rein, the lanthay was a delight to the experienced rider, as well as a welcome comfort. The beast’s thick covering of fur was far superior to the gando’s scales and the kan’s hide, yet Telion did not seem to share my enjoyment of the lanthay. The male warrior sat his mount surely, yet obviously unaccustomed to the lack of a leather seat such as kand were wont to be provided with, and from time to time muttered a regretful word or two about the kan he had left behind in the village. I spoke no word of my own, being too well pleased with the snow-covered forest about us and the increased feeling of freedom to wish to be drawn away from them, and we continued on through the snow and the trees and the fey, till a halt was called for the mid-fey meal.
The fall of darkness found us already encamped. Though the fey had been a pleasant one for me, few of the others of our party had found it so. The halt for the mid-fey meal had been filled with wailing from the females and attempts at soothing from the males, yet even soothing had not allowed the miserable wenches to ride till Mida’s light had gone. Stiff and sore, they wept and begged to have the ride over, and their males, with weary agreement from Ceralt, had chosen a snow-covered clearing and erected strange-shaped tents. The tents of Midanna are circular, with spires rising from the near flatness of their roofs, yet the males used tents which were more triangular than circular, with each section having the ability to stand alone and house two, or be joined with one or more others and house many. The males of Ceralt’s party chose to stand their tents singly, only Ceralt and Lialt combining their tents with Telion’s to make a larger one, and in very little time, the weeping females had been led within shelter. I was somewhat tempted to feel pity for the females, yet scorn for their weakness and helplessness rose too far to the fore. These village females wept and moaned and cried of tortures forced upon them, yet they knew naught of what true torture meant. That which had set them weeping and groaning was no more than every-time doing to a Midanna, and this was not all that set them apart from a warrior. To so easily show weakness seemed a part of village slave-women, and no shame appeared to attach itself to them over such humiliating actions. Shame, I knew, touched all in different ways, yet how was it possible to cling so tightly to a male and weep so helplessly, and not be touched by shame? I knew not where to find the answers I sought, and knew not even if I wished to find them, for somehow the matter seemed more complex than one would expect it to be.
“You seem quite intolerant of the delicacy of the other wenches,” Ceralt said, looking down upon me with something of anger in his eyes. “Since you do not share their delicacy and infirmities, you may now take our lanthay and tie them to the ramuda string. Later, I shall also allow you to feed them.”
My chin rose high at the hateful edge to his voice, and sooner would I have walked the lines for the Silla a second time than speak of my own need for warmth and rest. Without comment, I took Telion’s rein and Ceralt’s and Lialt’s as well, added them to the rein of my own lanthay, and walked from the males toward the string of leather which had been hung between two of the trees. All of the other lanthay had been tied to that string or two others set about the camp and they stood where they had been set with heads down and hooves scratching at the snow, seeking that which might be fed upon. I, myself, had the habit of seeing to my mount’s comfort before my own, yet the males of the party had merely tied their mounts and unburdened them before hurrying to the sides of their females. For a journey of great importance, the entire thing seemed ill-omened and ill-conceived, and I could not envision success with so poor a beginning. I tied the lanthay securely upon the line, giving them leather enough to lower their heads, then left them to their useless foraging. The light was low in the skies, and no other appeared to sight about the camp, therefore I paused some steps before the entrance to Ceralt’s tent to rub at the throbbing in my left thigh. As I stood close up beside the tent wall, it was then that I heard the voice of Telion from within.