With dry humor had Ceralt spoken, yet no humor was there in his eyes, as though I had not the right to protest my captivity. Odd are males in their thoughts and beliefs, yet no males had I known as odd as Ceralt and Telion and Galiose and their ilk. As a child, I had been told that for three or four to fall upon one was cowardly and evil, for one grants single combat even to blood enemies, yet large numbers are used in the capture of males to keep the males from harm. Should one wish to challenge a male, one warrior would suffice, yet it is the male’s seed, not his blood, that one seeks from a sthuvad. What, then, might a male seek from a warrior whom he takes captive, one who wishes naught of him? To live with the hatred of another seems ill to me, yet so do males choose to live when they take an unwilling female. In confusion did I shake my head, finding great frustration in lack of understanding, yet naught was there I might do for it.
“Truly I, too, shall soon require healing,” said Lialt, the beginnings of a grin upon his face as he turned once more to me. “She tries me sorely, brother, and I cannot see what interest she holds for you.”
“Were she in her normal dress,” laughed Ceralt, “her attraction would be more visible, yet even such bounty is not the reason I desire her.” He crouched slowly then, to put his hand upon my face, his eyes searching deep within me. “There is some lure, some need acalling that draws me,” he murmured, his nearness and the smell of his leathers nearly overwhelming me. “I knew her for mine when first I laid eyes upon her, knew then, too, she would never escape me, but knew not for some time the manner in which she might be approached. Now that knowledge, too, is mine, yet it may not be used as she is. All must wait upon her healing, yet the will of the Snows may refuse to wait. Have you seen aught further?”
“No,” replied Lialt, his hand upon Ceralt’s shoulder. “The Snows blow with great turbulence, showing the approach of much of importance, yet naught with definition have I seen. Would you have me search further?”
“I do not seek to bring the time upon us,” said Ceralt with a shake of his head, a sigh in his voice. “I feel it best that we refrain from prodding at the sleeping torcho, lest it waken prematurely and devour us all.” His eyes met mine. “And you,” said he, a touch of asperity to his tone. “Captive have you named yourself, yet you are mistaken. No captive are you but an unclaimed wench—till I choose to have you otherwise. Do not give me further cause to seek punishment for you. There shall be no pleasure for you in such an undertaking, nor shall your pride find further salve in pain. Should you wish to avoid humiliation, do not set yourself against me.”
With such words did Ceralt rise and gesture Lialt with him, both taking leave of the dwelling with no further look for me. Much relieved was I at his departure, for greatly did the presence of the male disturb me, and I knew not how to deal with the weakness. I turned to my belly in great upset, barely noticing the remnants of my body’s aches, deeply concerned with those feelings which held me in their grip. I had no fear of Ceralt, although I much feared that which sight of him brewed within me. Well did I know that he cared naught for me, thinking only and ever of my value, yet I knew not why I could not keep his acts of betrayal clearly in mind when he stood before me. With the capture of the Hosta had he betrayed me, with the recovery of the third Crystal of Mida had he betrayed me—yet his broad chest and dark, unruly hair drove such thoughts from me, his light eyes and caressing hands filling my thoughts with naught save the feel of him against me and within me. Truly did I wish myself city slave-woman, so that I might run and hide from that which I feared. Mida allows no fear to her warriors, a law I had never before found fault with, yet I knew not the manner in which I might face this fear.
“Do not upset yourself so, Jalav,” came Tarla’s hesitant voice from behind me. “The High Rider will not allow harm to come to you, for he means to draw you from the circle. That he smiles upon you is your good fortune.”
I raised my head to gaze at her across my shoulder, and saw that she knelt not far from me, her dark eyes wide and worried. No longer did she wear the fur wrappings about her feet, they being stood neatly beside a wall, and she knelt back upon bare heels, her hands at rest in her lap. Much of the slave was there in Tarla the female, but worse than useless would it have been to remark on it. I turned again with a sigh, coaxing my abused arms to raise me to sitting and then looked bleakly upon her.
“I have noticed few smiles of late from Ceralt,” said I. “What is this circle of which all speak, and in what manner is one drawn from it?”
“Surely you jest.” Tarla smiled in disbelief. “Do not all men everywhere draw their women from the circle of choice?”
Again I sighed, for ever must it seem to those who do not travel that their ways are followed the world over. Much had I, myself, believed so in some part, yet had my wandering taught me otherwise. With a patience I did not truly feel, I smiled upon the female.
“Never have I heard mention of the custom,” said I, drawing my bound hair across my left shoulder so that I might loosen it. “Would you care to instruct me in the matter?”
“With great pleasure,” said she, eagerly. “I know not why your people fail to know of it, yet shall I assist you in your learning. The matter goes thusly: In the fall of her sixteenth kalod, each girl of the village must begin to place herself within the circle of choice, where the men of the village might lay claim to her. The circles are formed each time the darkness is unlit, an event which occurs each thirty-fifth fey, and all girls eligible are required to circle. Should a girl circle undrawn as many as six times, she is then withdrawn and sent to circle in a neighboring village. Many girls, with their father’s permission, are sent to the circle sooner, for they have caught the eye of a man who does not care to wait for their sixteenth kalod, yet is the decision one for the men involved. Should the girl, at the younger age, be unprepared to receive a man, her father will not allow her to join the circle till the law directs his choice.”
That males should have such sway over their slave-women came as no surprise, yet the matter sat ill with me. Surely did they mean to extend such treatment to me, hoping to see me become slave to them, yet sooner would I stand beside Mida, though my work for her was as yet unfinished.
“Entering the circle is a time of great excitement,” continued Tarla. “Should a girl have been smiled upon by a man of the village, he will surely claim her then before all of the village. Some girls are of interest to more than one rider, and then does the claiming leather of each of them fall upon her, each attempting to draw her to his side, and then do the riders challenge one another, the winner taking the girl as his own. Surely, in such an instance, does the girl hope for the victory of the rider she prefers, for should the other prove victorious, it would be him she must serve.” She sighed deeply then. “Can you not feel how marvelous it would be, Jalav, to be won by the man of your heart? To be his despite the attempts of others? Ever do I dream of being won so, of being carried to my father’s halyar and first claimed there, and then taken to the halyar of the man of my heart, there to serve his every need. Upon my knees would I serve him, and gladly, yet must I wait a kalod longer, for my father will not see me within the circle sooner. But what shall I do if he does not wait?”
Carried off by a male indeed! Surely would Tarla have thought the capture of the Hosta by the males of Ranistard “marvelous.” Hosta knew naught of such custom as she had described, being properly unconcerned with the wishes of males. At no time were the wishes of the males consulted, for such would have been foolishness. I drew my fingers through the tangle of my unbound hair, and thought with annoyance upon the matter of the circle of choice.