“It is a horrible thing,” said Famira, “and yet it seems kinder than the ways of the men of my village. Your Silla offer the means to death with dignity, yet the men of the village offer no such easy escape. A woman among them must suffer and continue to live, to serve them and their vile lusts!”
The female’s eyes burned bright, hatred clear in the lines of her face, and I wondered at the thoughts she voiced. Had she been used so harshly and constantly that she now loathed the touch of a male? Such things were not unknown, and I thought of he named Cimilan, the male who had claimed her. His first use of Famira had been spoken of by the females in the village, yet none had mentioned what other things he had done. It was my intention to broach the subject, for I had not forgotten my time with the male Nolthis, yet before I might speak of it, Ceralt entered the tent, followed by this very same Cimilan. I rose to my feet at their appearance, yet Famira nearly flew erect, rage coloring her features.
“Am I to be followed wherever I go?” she demanded, her dark eyes blazing upon a frowning Cimilan. “Why will you not leave me be? Can you not see how unwelcome your presence is?”
“Famira, do not speak so,” said this Cimilan, putting a hand out toward her. His face wore a look of pained embarrassment, yet the gesture was one of placation.
“I shall speak as I will!” snapped Famira, rounding Cimilan’s outstretched hand to take her fur leg coverings and don them. She donned her body covering as well and then left the tent, sparing the male no whit of a glance. Cimilan’s hand dropped wearily to his side, his head hung in misery, and Ceralt could restrain himself no longer.
“By the putrid privates of Sigurr the Dark, what has come over you’?” he demanded, the oath fairly flickering in his eyes. His hand went to Cimilan’s shoulder, and the second male was made to turn to face him. “What is it that ails you that you would allow your wench to speak to you so?”
The male Cimilan faced his leader in embarrassment, then lowered his eyes and shook his head. “I am able to do naught with her,” said he, opening and removing his body fur. “She is beyond what skill I possess, and it is for this reason that I came to speak with you. Shall I free her to be chosen by another, Ceralt? Her hatred of me is clear, and I am unable to placate it.”
“Placate it?” Ceralt echoed with a frown, he, too, removing his furs. “I do not recognize the sound of you, Cimilan. Was it not you who said the wench needed little more than a man’s hand applied to her arrogance to bring the sweetness flowing from her? How could such sentiments have changed to placation?”
Cimilan shook his head in confusion, then stepped past Ceralt to enter further into the tent. His eyes fell upon me where I stood, and he halted to inspect me closely, a faint grin eventually finding him.
“She is indeed magnificent, Ceralt,” he said, folding his arms as he gazed upon me. “I have heard others say that the mere sight of her is enough to stir a man, and this is surely so. Where do you find the ability to keep your hands from her?”
“I have no need to keep my hands from her,” returned Ceralt, coming to stand at Cimilan’s side. “The wench is mine and I use her as I please. You continue to cause me worry, Cimilan. Why would a man find it necessary to keep himself from his woman? Seat yourself and tell me of what has so far occurred between you and Famira.”
Again Cimilan hesitated, yet Ceralt had turned from him to fetch a skin of near-renth and return with it. I seated myself in the lanthay fur and stretched out upon my left side, yet the male Cimilan seemed no longer aware of me. He accepted the skin Ceralt held out to him, drank deeply from it, then sat himself cross-legged upon the fur. When Ceralt was also seated, he took his eyes from his leader and began the unburdening of his soul.
“I had never thought of myself as unthinkingly cruel,” said he, his voice uneven, “yet I have caused Famira pain and terror which I had not meant to be hers. It occurred upon the occasion of my carrying her to her father’s halyar, the very darkness I drew her from the circle. Ceralt, I was a fool, for I drank from the second skin knowing that she had yet to be opened. I have had women aplenty and have even opened a few, yet never have I seen such screaming and such blood. The drug blinded me to all save the need within me, and it took the coming of the new light to show me what I had done.”
The male sat with head down, fist buried in the fur before him, voice bitter with shameful memory. Ceralt looked upon him as he listened, no sign of condemnation appearing in accusation. A brief silence filled the tent, as though Cimilan looked again upon the scenes of which he spoke, and then his resolute words continued.
“She lay in exhausted sleep,” said he, “covered with the blood which my use had brought to her. I recalled the pain she had had, the terror she had known, saw how small and helpless she appeared in the thinness of the new light. I knelt above her for many reckid, reviling myself and my thoughtlessness, knowing how deep my love for her was, cursing the continued absence of her father, who should have been present to condemn me. She and I were alone in the halyar, and then she stirred, moaning in pain and beginning to weep. I quickly gathered her up, wrapped in furs, and carried her to the bathing halyar, where I washed the blood from her and smoothed in soothing salves. She thereafter spoke no word to me for more than a fey, at first jumping to obey each thing I said to her, later merely cringing back from even the touch of my hand. The first darkness of our first fey together, she hid herself in a corner of my halyar and screamed when I looked upon her, and I found that I could not force myself upon her. Since that time I have not been able to touch her.”
Cimilan’s voice had fallen to a whisper, yet even so his disturbance had come through clearly. It puzzled me to reconcile his actions with Famira’s words and feelings, yet Ceralt was not puzzled. He continued to look upon the male before him, he who could not meet his leader’s eyes, and then Ceralt’s hand went to Cimilan’s shoulder, squeezing gently in reassurance.
“Cimilan, my friend, you are not a child,” said Ceralt, gentleness mixed with mild reproof. “A youth would be fit meat for such a problem; I had not expected to see it binding a man. However,” and his voice gained briskness as his hand clapped Cimilan’s shoulder, “as the problem is yours, we must solve it for you.”
Cimilan’s head raised to Ceralt with a frown, and Ceralt grinned a grin I had oft times seen before. “Your primary difficulty,” said Ceralt, “is that you are not familiar with my cousin and her ways. Have I ever told you of the time she and I were in the woods, and she took a branch and crowned me with it?” Cimilan shook his head, and Ceralt laughed to see the beginnings of outrage upon the other male’s face.
“It is true, I assure you,” grinned Ceralt. “She was perhaps eight kalod in age, and I thirteen, and I had dismissed her presence behind me till I felt the branch upon my skull, swung with a good deal of energy. She had been insulted by my refusal to take her hunting, and had chosen attack as the means by which to show her displeasure.”
“I do not understand,” Cimilan protested, his eyes upon Ceralt. “What has that to do with—”
“Patience,” counseled Ceralt, holding a hand up before the other. “The point of the story is yet to come. When the ringing caused by the blow cleared from my head, I rose to my feet, cut a switch from the nearest tree, and went seeking my beloved cousin. She had left me lying upon the ground, and when I caught her, too far from the village for screams to be heard, she knew she faced punishment she would not be saved from. Perhaps that was the first time she formulated her plans, yet it was surely not the last time she applied them. She received all of two blows from me, accepted in total silence, and then she screamed and twisted about as though her body were the victim of a bone-destroying rack. I was a child then, and thought surely I had caused her some great damage. I grew afraid and ceased the switching at once. I attempted to comfort her. I offered her sweets. I carried her to her father’s halyar and placed her gently upon her furs. Mind you, she had nearly opened my skull with a branch, and I had given her all of two blows with a switch upon the leather of her skirt, and yet it was I who begged forgiveness and felt bottomless guilt. Does this injustice seem somehow familiar to you?”