“A satisfying assurance,” grinned the other male, clapping Ceralt upon the shoulder. “Even though she is chosen by the Snows, she is no more than female and must be taught her place. Hannil will not care for such a look of insolence.”
“The females of Hannil’s village are more slave than woman,” replied Ceralt with distaste. “I enjoy the sight of obedience in a wench, yet slavelike obedience turns my insides sour. If a wench has no spirit, where is the pleasure in taming her?”
“The matter is not pleasure to all men,” laughed the second male, a greater look of respect for Ceralt entering his eyes. “As you are not far distant from your rendezvous point with Hannil, will you not pass a longer time with us? We are always honored by the presence of our High Rider.”
Ceralt smiled and turned to place a hand upon the other male’s shoulder. “And I am always honored by the hospitality of my Headman Levanis,” said he, true warmth in his tone. “Though we have, in truth, small distance yet to be covered, you must remember the presence of the wenches. It will require the balance of this fey and part of the next before we will reach the rendezvous point. Perhaps the return journey will allow for a longer visit.”
“The Serene Oneness make it so,” said the male called Levanis, the sound of sincerity in his tone. The other males, too, added their voices to his, showing the regard in which Ceralt was held. Each came to place a hand upon Ceralt’s shoulder, and then, with all body furs replaced, saw us to our mounts.
Mida’s skies had turned gray when the village was once more behind us. The cold remained as it had been, yet a lessening of the wind made it more bearable to one’s cheeks. We rode as we had earlier in the fey, yet with the loss of the glare upon the snow about us, the ride had become more enjoyable. I now was able to look about myself, though the benefit in such a state remained to be seen. After perhaps a hin of travel, Ceralt left his place at the head of the formation and rode back toward my own position, yet was hailed by Lialt before he had reached his objective. Lialt and Telion continued to ride behind me, and Ceralt urged his lanthay to a place close beside Lialt’s.
“I do not care for the look of these skies, brother,” said Lialt, eyeing the grayness above us with displeasure. “Perhaps it would be best if I were to walk the Snows this darkness and search for the likelihood of a storm.”
“No,” said Ceralt, and his tone was clear with decision. “I know not how often you may need to walk the Snows upon this journey, and I will not see you lost by cause of unnecessary walking. Save your strength, brother, for the time it will most be required of you.”
Lialt sighed, and the sound seemed to be one with the gray of the skies. “As you wish, Ceralt,” said he in obedience. “Though I know a storm cannot be stopped by my searching it out, still I would prefer the freedom to search. I am not to walk the Snows again till we have reached Siggur’s Peak?”
“I would prefer it so,” replied Ceralt, “yet I fear that blindness till then will not aid us. You shall walk the Snows in a fey or two, when Hannil and his riders have joined us and our journey is properly begun.”
“And our lot from the Snows unavoidable,” added Lialt, his voice flattened so that all emotion might be kept from it. “Are you so eager to embrace what has been seen for you that you give no thought to its avoidance?”
“In what manner might it be avoided?” demanded Ceralt, anger and annoyance amingle in his voice. “Shall I refrain from making this journey and thereby cheat the Snows of their due? Would this be possible, brother?”
Again Lialt sighed, and I kept my eyes upon the backs of those before me, making no effort to turn again to see the faces of those who spoke.
“Such a thing would not be possible,” said Lialt, his voice no longer willing to argue. “Forgive me, Ceralt, for having spoken of it. I, above all others, should know the futility of defying the Snows.”
“The words were born of concern,” said Ceralt, and a sound came as though he had gently clapped Lialt upon the shoulder. “Such concern means much to me, Lialt, yet we need not speak further upon the matter. Our paths have all long since been set, and now we have only to follow them.”
Lialt made no further reply, nor did Telion add comment to the discussion, and a moment later Ceralt’s lanthay had been ridden up beside mine. I raised my eyes to look upon the male who was destined to lose his life at the end of the journey he had so willingly begun, and the cold of the air dug deeper into the flesh of my body.
“A wench’s face looks best in the cold,” observed Ceralt, reaching out a hand to touch my cheek. “The blush of winter is most becoming, yet it cannot be comfortable for you. Should the cold increase, I will fashion a veil of cloth to cover your face and protect it. How sharply do you feel your having gone unfed?”
Briefly I studied the calm and serenity of his face and eyes, then looked away from him. “Jalav feels no hunger,” I replied, knowing it easier to go unfed in the dead white and dark twists of the woods about us. Ceralt made a sound of disbelief and reached forth a hand to turn my face to his again.
“What Jalav pretends not to feel is her punishment,” said he, a sharpness having entered his eyes. “A woman’s place is beside her man, seeing to his needs and serving him. Jalav kept to herself rather than kneel beside Ceralt, leaving him to be seen to by others as though he were womanless. For this, Jalav was denied her provender, so that she might consider her actions upon an empty belly. Consider well, wench, and ask the aid of the gods in cooling my anger. Should you fail to do so, your hunger may continue for some time.”
He then removed his hand from my face and kicked his lanthay to faster motion, riding ahead once more to resume his previous place at the head of the march. My lanthay attempted to follow his, and I found it necessary to hold my mount close, allowing it to do no more than dance in place. When the lanthay was once more resigned to its position, I looked ahead at Ceralt’s broad back and considered his words. How like a male to make a warrior his captive, and then feel disappointment when she will not do him as a slave of the cities! Had Ceralt wished such a female, he would have done well to choose another. I looked about at the bleak landscape once again, then silently called down the curse of Mida upon Ceralt’s head. His speaking of having refused me provender had brought a hollowness to my insides, recalling clearly the outrageous need my body had lately shown. Only once before had I seen such a thing, when a warrior of mine had been healed of a serious wound. Her appetite then had been great indeed, and Rilas, Keeper of our clans of the Midanna, had said that feeling so was necessary to replace lost blood and flesh. My hunger, however, outdid that of my warrior, and I recalled that her healing had not been as rapid as mine had been. Perhaps the rapidity of my healing was the cause of the hunger, yet whatever the cause, the hunger remained, I moved about upon the lanthay, causing it to dance again, and refused to consider the number of hind left to the fey.
Full darkness was not far from settling about us when the silent, gentle white began falling from the skies. It did not fall as thickly as it had in Ceralt’s village, and the cold seemed lessened by its presence. No wind blew as we continued on, and I saw that each tiny bit of white disappeared as it touched my lanthay and my coverings. Although the dimness had been made much lighter by the falling white, we rode only a short time before stopping in a white-covered clearing. Lines were strung for the lanthay, tents were erected, and those of our party separated to enter their individual shelters. After seeing to my lanthay, I entered Ceralt’s tent to find that the male had already lit the flame-boxes upon the walls, and had also set the black stones to burning. None other save Ceralt was in the tent, and he glanced at me when I had stepped within.