“There can be no bravery without fear;” I echoed, my hand reaching to touch his arm, my mind, though well confused, recognizing the truth in his words. “Yet I cried out to you, like a craven, begging the aid I should not have needed. I showed no bravery, and the words cannot be called back.”
“When fear and need are so strong that one cries out, to whom does one call?” he asked, gentle yet not to be denied.
“Does one call to a stranger, to the one offering harm, begging their lenience? Such a thing would indeed be weakness—yet this was not what was done. You called to one who holds your trust despite the witless things he does, despite the pain he has caused you. You called to one who holds your heart as you hold his—to one who is forever a part of you. Is there shame, my heart, in calling upon another part of you?”
I fell silent in confusion, knowing his words mistaken, yet knowing not how they might be denied. And a peace stole over me, a peace which might have come from words Keeper-spoken, one which soothed the distress and took all trace of it. Again his lips came to mine, gently demanding, softly taking, and this time the male scent of him came as well, causing my head to whirl as ever it seemed destined to do. My hands touched him as his touched me, and the female Deela and her moans and pleadings were quickly lost for all of the darkness.
15
A cave is found—and a carving of evil
The new light brought an early beginning for all, seeing us well upon the trail before the gray threatening had strengthened to its brightest. Hannil and his Neelarhi rode before those called Belsayah, yet few of Ceralt’s Belsayah would have had it otherwise. Though the Neelarhi alone seemed little different from the Belsayah males, Hannil’s presence turned them overly concerned with position and order of march. Ceralt gave them the lead with a gesture of disinterest, spending his concern, instead, upon the skies. The smell of the air, windless and calm, promised new whiteness to add to that through which we struggled, an event none looked forward to.
My lanthay once again moved beside that of Telion, this time at Ceralt’s direction. I was to remain with Telion or Lialt when I could not be beside Ceralt, for Ceralt mistrusted Hannil and his intentions. Those who called themselves brother to Ceralt seemed pleased with the duty entrusted to them, saying they would see me safe or themselves in Sigurr’s grasp. I dwelled as little as I might upon this, for it was all one with Ceralt’s thoughts and actions.
Telion hummed to himself as he rode, a distracting sound with little pleasure to it. When he and Lialt had awakened after the darkness, they had done no more than stretch before assuring Ceralt he had missed naught of consequence by not having bedded the female Deela. She, who had been made to sob and writhe far into the darkness, had flown into a fury, looked toward me with a promise of death, then had dressed herself and fled the tent. The males were more amused than I, for the female had not sent her venom toward them but toward me, undoubtedly considering me less than the males. At another time the thought would have annoyed me, yet my own actions and Ceralt’s replies remained to plague my waking hind. Did I truly consider him as he had said, and if this were so, how might I rid myself of so foolish a notion? I knew not—in Mida’s name, I knew naught—and wisest would I be to leave the matter for another time.
The fey continued to a dark, lowering gray, then grew no brighter. Upon halting for our mid-fey meal, Lialt approached me with a sheaf and proclaimed that I had been too silent of late. Perhaps another reading lesson would take my mind from what depths it had plunged to. At first I disliked the idea, then the lure of the thing took me, nearly against my will. Ever has there been a part of me demanding to know, and this part refused to be denied. I entered the lesson with more interest than Lialt had expected, then rode beside him the balance of the fey, reciting the letters’ callings and describing their shapes. Though I erred more often than I cared for, Lialt pronounced himself extremely pleased, as was Telion. The two males then bound me to secrecy, for they wished me well able to read before Ceralt learned of my progress. Why this was so I knew not, yet both assured me Ceralt’s pleasure would be greatest should I do as they demanded. I shrugged the matter off as a thing of males—without sense and without reason—and gave my word to abide by their request. It seemed a small thing to give those who had pledged themselves to my safety.
The snow came no more than lightly at the end of that fey, yet a hand of feyd farther saw our set halted for more than another fey. The snow fell so thickly then that one was unable to see the rider before her, not to speak of the direction in which one rode. The cold decreased, as did the wind, yet the tiny bits called snow swirled all about, making one squint in an attempt to see, turning one’s cheeks cold, then colder, then numb, encasing each rider in a low, narrow world of white. We fought to find one another in the stuff, fought to tether the lanthay and erect a tent, then fought to take the numbness from our bones with warmth. Ceralt chafed at the delay, pacing the tent with long, impatient strides, demanding of the air to know where the balance of his people might be. None were able to answer him till the storm was spent, then, by twos and fours, was the set reformed to discover the loss of one male and female of the Belsayah, two each of the Neelarhi. All seemed sobered by these losses, Ceralt and Hannil nearly asnarl, yet I thought the losses not unreasonable. Battle had been joined with the land through which we rode, and where does one find battle without also finding loss?
The second heavy storm, seven feyd past the first, found us already within our tents and fully prepared. Ceralt had relented and allowed Lialt to walk the Snows none other might see, that we might have warning soon enough to face the falling whiteness without loss. This Lialt did with eagerness, yet was I sent to the tent of Cimilan and Famira till the Clouds of Seeing had blown themselves to nothingness upon the cold about us. I grew angry with Ceralt for refusing me the opportunity of again walking the white lands, yet Ceralt would not allow me anger either. When once again the snows whistled chillingly about us, he punished me for my anger by contesting with Telion and Lialt to see which of them might use me the longest—and most often. They each saw that I was given no pain, yet the humiliation of finding my body slave to each male in turn was stronger than I had thought it would be. Though I had thought myself resigned to use by males till Mida freed me from them, the impatience of freedom-soon-to-be made my capture much the worse.
Another hand of feyd went by beneath the hooves of weary lanthay before the males discovered themselves nearly to their goal. Our vision had been constantly hampered, if not by snow swirling from the skies, then by snow blown about by the wind; the gradual rise of the ground was not noted till the skies briefly cleared to show us the looming bulk of that which males called Sigurr’s Peak, closer, by far, than any had expected. Ceralt sought out Hannil, the two conferred, then the march resumed toward the snow-covered foothills perhaps a fey’s ride from where we stood. Had the ground not risen before the approach to this Sigurr’s Peak, our attempt to reach it would have been much the longer in the doing.
The new fey brought us to the foothills we had sought, yet the unevenness of the ground caused the males to push farther on, seeking a level place where the females of the set might be left in safety and comfort. Again I thought their actions foolish, for naught save Lialt’s seeing had brought us to our destination; should we and he fail to return to those left behind, seeking the return trail would likely cost the females their lives. And upon the matter of provender, none would speak nor dwell overlong. We had fed less and less well as the journey went on, little edible to be found around us, little left of that which we had brought. Should our quest prove an empty one, the females would find themselves unable to feed upon lanthay and continue their trek afoot—as a warrior would do. Ceralt cared little for the thought of warriors, yet should survival have been possible, warriors would have survived.