Fayan sat saddened, Gimin silent by her side, and then they both regained their feet as sounds came to us from the beginning of the broad way which ran past the dwelling of Galiose. Chill was the air, and chill, too, was the grass beneath my feet, yet all matched the chill within me as my hair blew about my thighs. Completely unbound was the hair of my warriors, for I had disallowed the placing of war leather upon it. Many of the males knew the use of war leather, and foolish, indeed, would it be to give warning of our intent. The Silla would be well aware of where they had been taken, for the drug used for their capture would no longer be with them, and sight of waiting Hosta would be warning enough.
Many males began to drift within sight of us, each looking back toward the body of the city and the sounds of joy and greeting coming faintly therefrom. The dwellings were hung with many-colored silks as they had been hung about for the fetching of the Hosta, yet no more than two colors would find preeminence that fey. The green of the Hosta and the red of the Silla would merge in battle, one to prove triumphant above the other. Mida willing, the grass of Hosta would prevail as ever it did when Hosta and Silla met.
The sounds of male voices raised in triumph reached us more clearly, and then appeared the first of the males, a Silla held bound before him. The Silla twisted about, attempting escape from the male who held her and the leather which bound her wrists, yet were her efforts to no avail. Nearer to the dwelling of the High Seat was she brought, others behind her, and the red of their clan colors reached to my warriors and caused them to stir. No more than a stir did my Hosta allow themselves, no more than a stir would the males perceive. Later, with the Silla unbound, would they perceive further.
Not long was it before the Silla were brought to the platforms of provender, their eyes no longer looking about. They gazed upon the waiting Hosta, knowing full well of the battle soon to be brought to them, not one of their greater than twenty hands in number doubting such. We, too, numbered greater than twenty hands, therefore would the battle be of much pleasure, although no weapons were at hand. The males dismounted, reached the Silla down to stand beside them, and then Galiose approached from his dwelling, the males who had been in council with him moving in his wake. Large and broad was Galiose and dark of hair and eye, his well-made body clad in a short blue covering of city males, with blue leather and metal covering of protection above that. His feet, like those of the other males, were encased in leather, which was bound up his legs, showing he cared naught for the touching of Mida’s sweet ground by his own flesh. Those of the cities have no souls, and by their each and every action do they proclaim it. My hand went to my life sign, that of the hadat, the guardian of my soul, and there it rested as Galiose and his males drew nearer. Behind was Ceralt, and the large, dark hunter moved his light eyes about, searching for the presence of Jalav. Jalav had been bidden to attend the feast, and as Ceralt’s eyes touched me, a small smile of satisfaction appeared. Jalav had obeyed Ceralt, so he thought, yet never would Jalav obey Ceralt. Beside Ceralt, Telion walked, and the great, red-gold-haired male warrior also seemed pleased. Telion, as Ceralt, cared little for disobedience, and therefore had Larid, my warrior whom Telion had made his own, been refused permission for attendance. Larid, who was with child, had not been deemed strengthened enough from her illness to bear the exertions of a feast time, yet had it been my word that had kept Larid within Telion’s dwelling. Indeed had my warrior not the strength for battle, and this had I proclaimed above her protests. A true Hosta warrior, Larid had wished to join her sisters against the Silla, yet had she obeyed the word of her war leader, as do all Hosta.
Many murmurings were there from the males all about, and then Galiose paused before the gathering to hold his arms high. Much pleased was the High Seat with the look of Silla, and slowly did his eyes move among them as a silence covered the waiting throng. When full silence had fallen, Galiose raised his voice.
“We, the men of Ranistard, welcome the Silla wenches to our city,” he shouted, his deep voice carrying to all. “The Silla have been found pleasing to men, therefore have they been taken by men as mates. No longer shall the Silla find need to do battle, for we shall now stand their protection. We open our city to you as we have already opened it to the Hosta, and you may explore as you please, so long as you remain a distance of two streets from gate or wall. I feel sure the Hosta will inform you of the penalties for being found nearer, for the Hosta have already incurred those penalties.” He paused briefly to grin about himself, and the listening males chuckled in rueful remembrance. Again the Hosta stirred, also in remembrance, yet naught was said. “Now, wenches,” Galiose continued, “you may join us at the feast prepared for you. Ranistard welcomes her newest citizens in such a manner.”
The males beside the Silla began to unbind them, and other males began to approach the platforms tended by slaves. As previously instructed, each of my warriors watched her war leader closely, and then began her approach as I did. The Silla twisted about, desperate to be released before the arrival of Hosta. No battle would there be with bound Silla, and as the leather fell from them and they turned to face us, I gave the signal for attack. Hosta battle cry merged with Silla as males were shouldered from our path, and then were our two groups met, nails and teeth and stones doing that which should have been done by sharpened metal. Shouts were there about us, and cries of victory and defeat, and she who had closed with me found a scream in her throat for the pain which my teeth brought to her. Her hair, a pale gold of a length like mine, merged with mine in the struggle of battle and the breeze which had grown to wind. Naught save a single silver ring in her ear did this warrior wear, showing that she had attained full warrior status in battle, but I wore the second ring as well in my left ear, showing my attainment of war leadership. In true battle, each war leader sought out the other so that skill might match with skill; now, though, that was impossible. The true Silla war leader lay dead by my sword, and no other yet have been chosen for the second ring. I faced only a simple warrior but was not reluctant.
A chaos and cacophony surrounded the area, the blood lust rose high within me, yet no time was there to dedicate my enemy’s blood to Mida, nor to partake of it. Blood flowed freely from the Silla’s shoulder when I was pulled from her by the hands of males, and each of us was held well out of reach as other warriors were separated. My left arm bore the marks of her painful reprisal, yet I had no feeling for the touch of pain. High was my pleasure at having closed with Silla trash, and deep was the snarling coming from the Silla as a male attempted to examine her shoulder. All about were warriors held from what they had been about, and high was the anger of the males, yet was their anger as naught when compared to that of Galiose. The large male roared about himself, ordering the separating of warriors, and Telion and Ceralt each held a struggling Silla, attempting to keep them from the Hosta who struggled toward them, held by yet other males. Galiose, in his anger, did not await the silence as he had before, but strode toward where I stood, held in the grip of males, and then took my hair in his fist and shook my head by it.
“So!” he hissed, his blazing eyes not far from mine. “The Hosta war leader would turn my city to a battleground, spitting upon my words of welcome to these others! Never before have I seen wenches act so, and never again shall I see its like! This time shall Jalav feel the lash of punishment!”
“No!” shouted Ceralt from where he stood, and quickly did he pass the Silla he held to another male so that he might stride to where Galiose glowered, my hair held in his fist. “Galiose, do not have her lashed!” he insisted, his light eyes disturbed beneath dark brows. “I shall punish her for this affair, you have my word!”