“I see,” murmured Ceralt, stepping forward to look down upon the small, pretty female. “I also see that the fear you felt in Hannil’s tent is no more. Why should this be so, wench?”
“What is there to fear here?” The female shrugged, looking uninterestedly about the tent. “All know Belsayah men are weak, too weak, even, to own a lash. I am weary from the fey’s ride, Ceralt, and wish to be taken to your furs now. We may not dally long, of course, for Hannil will insist upon an early beginning come the new light. Should you intend to use me at all, it must be now.”
“Must it indeed,” murmured Ceralt, his head high as Lialt and Telion joined him about the female. The poor, foolish slave-woman saw naught of the manner in which the three gazed upon her, for she seemed more interested in her own appearance than in the thoughts of males. She stood somewhat turned from them, her hands to her hair, her body held gracefully beneath the leathers she yet wore. As the three males exchanged glances of annoyance and anger, I turned from them all, went to the far side of the tent, removed my leathers, and sat. I cared not how the discussion would be resolved, so filled with shame and dismay was I.
“Brothers, we have been ordered to our furs,” said Ceralt, looking not upon the other males but upon the unseeing female. “Think you we dare do other than obey?”
“Certainly not,” said Lialt, folding his arms across his chest. “Belsayah riders, in their weakness, dare do naught other than obey. ”
“Yet, I am no more than a visitor among the Belsayah, a lowly warrior of the cities,” said Telion, also with arms afold. “Perhaps I, alone, might be permitted to disobey.”
“Have you truly such courage?” asked Ceralt of Telion, watching as the female at last turned to regard them with a frown. “l, myself, am too fearful, too beaten down.”
“Should Telion do such a thing, I, too, may find the wherewithal to act so,” said Lialt, looking, like the other males, no place other than upon the female. She, seeing their stares, slowly began shaking her head, slowly-wide-eyed, began backing away, yet the realization of her true position came far too late. Telion and Lialt moved no more than two easy paces before the female found herself trapped between them, her leathers the most immediate object of their hands. She struggled and screamed as though being torn limb from limb, indignation high within her, yet so quickly were the leathers removed that she stood bare before them in no more than a moment.
“This may not be!” the female fumed, attempting to pass the two males and approach Ceralt. “I am not meant for the likes of them!”
“You may be correct,” Ceralt nodded most soberly, looking upon the female’s body with pleasure. “Should they touch you and find you completely unresponsive, they will allow you sleeping furs of your own, where you may lie undisturbed. If, however, they find a spark of warmth within you, they will encourage it till you politely request your use. Belsayah men allow a large measure of freedom to wenches who do not belong to them. If it is this which you mistook for weakness, you will not mistake the two again.”
The female cried out in anger as Lialt and Telion, having removed their leg and chest coverings, took her to the far side of the tent, Telion holding her arms as Lialt unfolded two sets of sleeping furs. The three were quickly down upon the furs, Ceralt doing no more than removing his chest and leg coverings as he watched Lialt and Telion begin to give the female their attention. The female truly seemed to dislike their touch, yet was she female and they male. They touched and stroked her body, kissed and caressed it, demanded and took; when next she cried out it was with desperation, a look of disbelief strong upon her face. Her body writhed to their smallest touch, showing it would not be long before she begged her use. Ceralt stood and chuckled as he watched, and I turned away, too ill to scorn or commiserate.
It could not have been more than two hands of reckid before the female began screaming in her need, causing laughter among the males. I barely knew when one of them began giving her release, knew naught of the approach of Ceralt till his hand touched my arm. I opened my eyes to see that the flames-within-boxes had been extinguished, and was glad of the darkness which hid me within it.
“Come to my furs, satya,” Ceralt said softly, a shadow rising straight beside me. I, too, rose to my feet, made my way through the darkness in his wake, then lay myself down beside him. His hands touched my body, found the breech I yet wore, quickly removed it, then drew me more closely to him. I had not resisted, could not resist, yet his lips touched mine only briefly before his head drew back.
“What disturbs you, satya?” he whispered, a concern to be heard in his tone. “Are you yet disturbed that I was so foolish as to leave you with Hannil?”
I shook my head, dismissing the suggestion, knowing there was a thing of greater moment concerning me.
“Your misery is so strong that I feel it in your flesh,” said Ceralt, moving his hand upon me. “Speak of that which disturbs you, so that I may share it and perhaps ease it.”
“Do not ask me to speak of it,” I whispered, closing my eyes even against the sight of his shadow form. “Have I not shamed myself enough that you would have me add to it?”
“Shamed yourself?” echoed Ceralt, confusion in his tone. “In what manner have you shamed yourself? I bid you speak, woman, for I would hear of this.”
I writhed briefly in his arms, consumed with the need for silence, achingly aware that I could not disobey, then choked out, “Why do you force me to this? You yourself heard my shame, the weakness and fear so great within me that I called upon a male sooner than face it. How am I to call myself a warrior, knowing I behaved so? How am I to think myself a war leader, who must know no fear? And how am I to bear being forsworn, from speaking my cowardice after having been bidden to silence? Truly have I shamed myself more than any effort of yours. ”
I attempted to twist from his arms, to take my shame further away into the darkness, yet he pulled me tight to his chest and held me there, stroking my hair with a gentle hand.
“You are not forsworn,” said he, sounding much like a war leader correcting the misconceptions of her warrior. “Were you not told, long ago in the forests between Bellinard and Ranistard, that should someone again offer you harm you were to raise your voice and shout for my assistance? To obey my command is not to be forsworn.”
I paused in my agitation, suddenly recalling the time he spoke of, yet the discovery did little to ease my upset. I had not had memory of such instruction, had not recalled it and purposely acted to obey. If not forsworn I remained much shamed, for such a thing could not be faced with other than the truth.
“Ah, Jalav,” Ceralt sighed. “Still does the misery hold you. The strictness of your codes continue to give me pain—and your adherence to them as well. You spoke of shame, yet I failed to see what shame there might be for you in a thing which gave me such joy. Do you not know, woman of my heart, how long I waited to hear you call upon me in need, rather than bear the load yourself, alone and in silence? My heart leaped with greater joy than it had ever known—and you found naught save shame therein? Can there be shame in giving another such joy?”
“How can there be joy in another’s fear?” I whispered. “How can there be joy when that fear should never have been voiced? Why must males forever find joy in that which brings a warrior agony?”
I spoke these words, aching within, caring naught for what Ceralt might do upon hearing them. Should he end my life in his anger, the world would be the better for it.
“Why must such fear be unvoiced?” he demanded, suddenly less than gentle. “Are you so different from others that you, alone, must feel no fear? Men feel fear, and wenches too, and all gain in the feeling of it. How can there be bravery if fear is never felt? To overcome such fear is the mark of a man, not the denial of its very existence. When the thing feared is worthy of fear, there is no shame in the voicing of it.”