When Lialt rode ahead to join Ceralt, Telion came forward to pace his lanthay beside mine, saying no word yet looking upon me with satisfaction. With the arrival of the new light, Telion had requested my use from Ceralt, saying that thoughts of Larid during the darkness had rendered him nearly unable to ride. Ceralt had commiserated with the other male’s need, yet had shocked me by pronouncing the decision mine. It would not always be mine to decide, he had said, yet at that moment, my use was mine to give or keep. Telion had turned calm eyes upon me, unangered by Ceralt’s decision, and all had watched me closely for my decision. There was little to think upon in the matter, for I did not wish Telion’s use, yet I was not given time to voice this decision. Telion, perhaps seeing the thoughts of a war leader in my eyes, quickly took me in his arms, saying he would allow me longer to think upon the thing, and then put his lips upon mine. Filled with indignation, I sought to free myself, yet amid the laughter of Ceralt and Lialt, Telion had little difficulty calling forth the heat in me. The decision which was to be mine then became a raging need, much to the satisfaction of Telion, who then saw well to his own need. With his hands and lips upon me, I had not been able to deny him, and thought of this disturbed me more than having been forced to his service. Was it not solely Ceralt but all males to whom my body was enslaved? Would there come a fey when I found myself unable to deny any of them? If this were so, what then would become of her who had once been a war leader of Hosta? Seated upon my lanthay, I shivered as though from the cold, yet the cold had come no farther through my leathers and furs than ever.
A short, thin gust of wind blew, seemingly alone in the area between the trees, stirring the cold and the fur of my lanthay, passing well below the motionless roof of gray in the skies. All Midanna knew that the stronger the wind, the sooner the change from fair skies to foul or foul to fair, and apparently the lands of males saw the thing the same. Mida had sent no wind to rid her skies of the grayness of clouds, and these clouds would stay above our heads till they had emptied all within them upon us.
“For a journey demanded by the gods,” remarked Telion from beside me, “there seems to be little from them in the way of approval. We are barely able to travel now, yet further snow is a constant threat. Perhaps they merely wish to amuse themselves watching us founder beneath a sea of white.”
The male gazed sourly upon the skies so close above us, one hand holding to his lanthay’s rein, the other hand twisted within the lanthay’s neck fur. Telion continued to yearn for the leather seat left behind upon his kan, and sat his current mount with little more confidence than the females of the village. I smiled at his discomfort for I felt none of it myself, and his satisfaction with his earlier actions dimmed to annoyance.
“There is little call for such smugness,” he growled. “Though you ride that beast as though born to it, should the rest of us founder you, too, will cease to be.”
“This set is not meant to founder,” I replied, too pleased with the male’s annoyance to allow it to fade. “Mida, too, speaks of the journey as necessary, therefore shall it be completed. Once completed, I shall continue in her service for I am not yet done with it.”
Telion turned his head sharply to gaze upon me, and frowned in a way that seemed to have little to do with his previous annoyance.
“Again you speak of your Mida,” said he, his tone displeased. “Does she continue to walk your dreams as she did upon that first instance? When will you learn that Ceralt has taken you from such things, and that they need no longer trouble you?”
Strangely, his displeasure seemed more for Mida than myself, yet his understanding was far from complete.
“That Ceralt has captured me is of no moment to Mida,” said I, attempting to show him the right of it. “It is her will that I travel with this set, and it shall be her will when I am freed from it. There is a thing I must do for her, yet she was not spoken of what the thing might be.”
The male’s eyes turned cold, and he straightened upon his lanthay. “The only will you need concern yourself with is Ceralt’s,” he growled, a low, cutting edge to his voice. “It is by Ceralt’s will that you ride here, and by his will alone shall you remain. Were he to hear you speak of this Mida again, he would see you soundly punished. Can you not comprehend the fact that you are his wench? He has taken you and will not allow a return to your former, savage existence!”
Telion had kept his voice low, to disallow its traveling to those who rode before us, yet the strength of his displeasure came to me clearly. He insisted upon seeing me as no more than that which Ceralt wished me to be, and my anger at such a state of affairs loosened my tongue injudiciously.
“So I am his, eh?” I hissed, nearly spitting the words at him. “For how long am I to be his? Till he is struck down at this journey’s end? And then to whom am I to belong? Pah! The plottings of males disgust me!”
Telion drew back from the blaze of my anger, a stricken look upon his face where once his own anger showed. I turned my eyes from him, studying the backs of those who rode before us in an attempt to calm myself, and his hand and voice came to me unexpectedly.
“Jalav, you were not to know that,” he protested, his hand tightening about my arm. “Ceralt wished you to remain ignorant of the possibility to spare you unnecessary pain. There is ever the chance that he might live.”
“How great a chance?” I demanded, turning again to rake him with the blaze of my eyes. “As he accepts the matter as though it were the will of Mida, how great can be the possibility of his survival? Have males no sense of rightness that they ride to their deaths with joyous acceptance in their hearts? Should death come to a warrior, she will accept it happily for it is her means of attaining Mida’s Blessed realm, yet she will not seek it when it is not required of her!”
“Ceralt does not seek his death!” Telion growled, fingers tightening to an even greater degree. He no longer appeared stricken, and his anger had returned in full measure. “Women have no knowledge of man’s ways, of the manner in which his thoughts turn. Ceralt will not seek to avoid his lot, for should he succeed in doing so, all those about him would lose their lives in his stead. Only by completing this journey and chancing his own ending might he avoid the fate so clearly seen for his people. And you are not to speak to him of this, for it would serve only to increase the burdens already upon him. Are my words clear to you wench?”
I looked upon Telion, he who had seemed so concerned with my anger, he who had once seemed so pleased with a warrior’s prowess. Had I expected a request from him to aid in the defense of Ceralt’s life, my expectations would have come to naught. Wench, he called me, helpless female who was to obey all males, one whose sword was unwelcome among those of males. Ceralt had wrought well among his brothers, degrading me to them, yet his work had not been as successful with himself. Why, if I were no more than a female in his eyes, was his concern so great lest I seek vengeance for his death? Does one fear the vengeance of a city female in the same manner as one fears the vengeance of a warrior and war leader? Ceralt felt no desire to unleash my fury, yet Telion had forgotten the strength of it. In anger, I kicked at the side of Telion’s lanthay, causing the unsuspecting beast to snort and rear, and Telion hastily removed his hand from my arm to grab at the lanthay’s neck fur. In such a manner did I answer the demand he had put to me, and I allowed my dancing lanthay to increase its pace so that we might close the gap which had grown between us and those ahead of us. The breath came white from my lanthay’s nostrils, as white as from mine, and the snow crunched beneath its hooves as we left Telion and his indignant mount in our wake. The male was not thrown as he might have been, and a moment or two later found him again at my side, yet the words were gone from him and no new demands were addressed to me. I made no attempt to look upon him, yet his silence suggested that he had found the understanding previously spoken of.