“For the benefit of the newcomer, I shall explain again the rules of the game,” said Hannil, coming to stand before myself and the two who cringed in fear beside me. The male now let cruelty stare from his eyes, now that males who knew him not were gone. “The matter is simple, Jalav, in that there are the bodies of two forest scarm hidden within this tent. You wenches must search for them without use of your hands, and immediately upon finding one must take it in your teeth and bring it forth to lay it at our feet. She who fails to find a scarm is the loser, and must then pleasure my riders and me till our desire is spent. We, of course, take the loser together, that she not feel undesireable and unwanted. Do you understand?”
His eyes again moved about me, his grin strong as he stood with fists upon his hips. I said naught to that which I had been told, for I had not been given instruction for my own benefit. These males held to a twisted code, one which demanded that they give warning to their intended prey, a warning which would nevertheless prove useless. Though I failed to acknowledge their instruction, their codes were satisfied, as Hannil’s nod immediately showed.
“You may now all begin,” said he, stepping back and to one side. “We bid you good hunting.”
The other males laughed softly with their leader as the two females beside me looked fearfully about, then moved in opposite directions to begin their search. I continued to stand as I was, declining even to look in the places where the scarm must lay hidden. A smell of dead things came from two places to the rear of the tent, one which should have been clear even to those of cities and villages. Though Jalav continued to be captive to those about her, her senses had not yet died as theirs had long since done. The males looked upon my refusal, glanced at each other and to their leader, then those upon the lanthay fur rose to join Hannil in standing before me.
“Unwilling and unbending,” murmured Hannil, a hand to his face, his eyes calculating. “Shall we declare her loser now, or wait till the others have found their scarm?”
“If she will not search, she cannot win,” said one of the others, putting out a hand to stroke my thigh.
“And yet, the insolence in her gaze annoys me,” said the second, staring deep into my eyes. “As though she might win easily should she wish to make the effort.”
“Aye, there is much insolence to be seen in her,” nodded Hannil, his eyes aglow. “I feel she will make no effort to please us as she is, therefore must we give her reason to make the effort. ”
He then turned away from me to go to his belongings, and when he straightened to face me once more, his hands held a lash. Those females who had been searching the tent froze where they knelt, terror filling their eyes, a terror I, myself, could feel in no small part.
“See the look in her eyes now!” Hannil exclaimed, pointing with the coiled, heavy leather lash. “The bite of the sednet has not even reached her, yet she knows and fears it. Once, she has felt its kiss, her service will be eager indeed. Hold her.”
I turned to run from the males, from the pain they intended for me, yet escape was not possible. With my wrists fast to my throat, I was caught easily before I might gain the opening of the tent flap. The two males turned me roughly back to the center of the tent, threw me to my knees, then forced my head to the fur with their fists in my hair. I fought them uselessly, near mindlessly, recalling again and again the touch of the lash, the fire of its track, the scream of its presence. I writhed in the males’ grip, feeling their amusement through the relentlessness of their hold, hearing when Hannil shook out the coils of the lash as Bariose had done so long ago in the city of Bellinard. I shook to the fear which held me even more tightly than the males themselves, trying in vain to keep my voice still.
“No!” I screamed, the word forced from me, though my insides came forth with it. “No! Ceralt!”
“Ah, the wench speaks,” laughed Hannil, pleasure much in evidence. “A pity her words are wasted on one who lies elsewhere, sporting with a gift. He does not hear you, my pretty, nor would he care even if he were to hear. Let us begin.”
I screamed the scream of a wounded hadat, fear and hatred and pain co-mingled, trapped by those who would savage my soul. I twisted about in helplessness, awaiting the first stroke of fire, and then a voice spoke, startling all within the tent.
“You are mistaken,” came the soft, menacing tones, fury held carefully to feed the softness. “Ceralt does hear and does indeed care. Release her now or face me with weapons. I care not which you choose.”
The hands of the males, so tight to my arms and hair, quickly disappeared, allowing me to straighten upon my knees. Within the tent stood Ceralt, Lialt and Telion entering behind him, all staring with deep anger at Hannil and his males.
“Remove the chains from her,” said Ceralt, looking as though he kept himself from speaking further only with great difficulty. Hannil stood where he had been, the lash in his fist, fury upon his face, without words to counter Ceralt’s demands. One of the two males who had held me removed the chains from my throat and wrists, and Ceralt gestured to my leathers and furs, indicating that he wished me to don them. I rose to my feet and did as he commanded, sickness filling me over that which I had done. When completely clad, Lialt and Telion held the tent flap for me, then they and Ceralt followed my track into the cold and darkness.
I walked across the snow, surrounded by the males, so completely filled with shame that I could not bear my own company. I had been a fool to think no further shame could touch me, a fool to believe no worse could come to me than at the hands of males. I had shamed myself more than the males had ever done, a thing I had not thought possible to do. And yet the why of it eluded me, the reason for its having happened. Never before had I sunk so low, and I knew not how a warrior might bear it.
“Those vermin!” snarled Telion suddenly, no longer able to keep silent. “It is now no wonder that those wenches cringe when near them! Do we truly require their presence, Ceralt?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” replied Lialt when Ceralt did not speak. “The Snows demand their presence as they demand ours. Should matters change, I will speak of it at once.”
“Jalav, were you hurt?” asked Ceralt, abruptly stepping beside me to put his arm about me. At the shake of my head his arm closed more tightly, his free fist rising before him. “Through no fault of mine!” he spat, his anger directed elsewhere than at me. “Sigurr take my wits, for surely I, myself, have never used them! To leave you there. . .!”
“Gently, Ceralt,” soothed Telion, coming to place a hand upon his shoulder. “Even I failed to see the truth at first. A man cannot be blamed for being blinded by pain and disappointment. You thought she wished none of you, forgetting her inability to show her true emotions, thought she refused even to speak to you, forgetting you commanded her to silence. Be thankful we saw the truth in time to correct the error.”
“Barely in time,” muttered Ceralt, yet he gave over railing at himself for the balance of the walk. When we reached his tent he thrust me first within, then he and the others followed. I immediately began removing my furs in the heat, and was startled by the abrupt appearance before me of the female Deela, who had earlier been taken from Hannil’s tent by Ceralt.
“No!” snapped the small female, seemingly in great anger. “You were to remain in my place while I took yours! You may not return here this darkness!”
“Do not fear, wench, you shall not be so quickly returned,” said Ceralt, coming to stand beside me. “There are other furs to be filled in this tent aside from mine.”
“Let her fill them!” spat the female, tossing her head in fury. “I am too beautiful and desirable for any man not a High Rider! Hannil allowed the others to toy with me, yet only he took me! I am meant for the High Rider of the Belsayah, and so it will be!”