Great eagerness underlay the Helda’s words, a glowing gaze emanating from her eyes, her body quivering as though in the throes of deep emotion held tightly in check. Such a reaction, which I had not expected, disturbed me, yet was there little I might do to dispel it. These warriors knew naught of the doings of the goddess and the god, therefore was it to be expected that they would be much in awe of such. Best would be to pretend it had not happened, yet it was unlikely that such would occur.
“I must first see what there is to be fed upon,” I sighed, removing my hand from her shoulder. “I would instead have you send for the war leaders who follow me, so that we may hold council before the new light.”
“At once, war leader,” breathed the Helda, her left hand to her sword hilt, the childlike eagerness continuing to possess her. “It is my honor to be commanded!”
Quickly, then, did she turn and leave the chamber, intent upon obeying those commands which had become an honor. Ah, Mida! Truly had the goddess full knowledge of the manner in which a warrior might be set completely apart from her sisters. Undoubtedly she thought it necessary to bind me more closely to her will, as she had thought it necessary to breed hatred within me for males; her beliefs were in error, yet how might I instruct her? A warrior cannot instruct a goddess, she may do no more than obey. And this would Jalav do, obey the goddess till life had fled. Jalav was Mida’s, with none to deny her, not even the male god Sigurr.
The provender upon the platforms was poor stuff, fit only for city folk who knew no better, yet was it necessary that I feed upon it to restore my strength. The nilno was overdone and awash in cold, thick grease, yet did I swallow each bite of it to the last, and the dark, baked grain as well, and the talta eggs and the lake fish known to warriors as sampa. Those warriors remaining within the chamber stood in awe of the hunger which had gripped me, staring in deep respect as I downed each pot of drink called renth by city males. Clear it was that those warriors had not yet tasted the renth, for it was thin, poor stuff beside the daru of warriors, truly fit for none save males. That, upon the provender which I had consumed, was less than the water to be found in forest streams.
When once I had fed as far as was necessary, I took a pot of renth and stood before the war leaders who had already gathered. That all the candles about the chamber had been relit meant naught, for a great darkness was to be felt in the silence possessed by each of them, a silence brought about by the abrupt healing of my wound. Their eyes lay upon me as I stood before them, left hand upon my sword hilt, pot of renth to my lips, yet no one gaze would truly meet mine, not even that of Tilim or Rogon or Gidon. All knew I had been touched by Mida, and none knew how they, themselves, might touch me.
“For what reason have you come here?” I demanded of them at last, looking to each of them. “For what reason do you stand here before me?”
Frowns touched their faces, indicating deep lack of understanding, stirring them in their places, after a moment moving Rogon to speech.
“We have come in answer to your summons, war leader,” said she, less determination in her voice than I had come to expect. “Have you no memory of having summoned us?”
“Indeed have I no memory of having summoned the likes of you,” said I, harshly, throwing the renth pot from me so that renth spilled upon the thickness of the floor cloth. “It had been my belief that I summoned war leaders, warriors of the Midanna, those who would sit in war council with me! Had I wished cringing, fearful city slave women, I would have prepared the chains of males for them! Run from me now, slave females, run to the arms of males for the safety you seem so to need! I shall seek for warriors elsewhere.”
In great disgust did I turn from them, professing not to hear first their shocked silence, and then the beginning mutters of anger which I had hoped would come. Stiffly did I stride to a platform and take up another pot to be filled with renth, and at that time did the voice of Rogon come again.
“Jalav, you may not address us so!” said she, the cold of insult clearly to be heard. “I, for one, am a warrior of the Midanna, privileged to meet insult with my blade! Should you speak so again, I shall face you with swords, though Mida strike me to the ground for the doing!”
“Though Mida strike you?” I snapped, turning quickly to face her, doing naught to cover the fury I felt. “She who faces Jalav will be struck by Jalav, as it has ever been! Is it your belief that I stand not only behind the shield of Mida, but behind her swordarm as well?”
In the face of this demand did Rogon stand in silence for a moment, her anger undiminished yet briefly halted as she considered her words. To say that a Midanna stood behind the swordarm of another was to call her a hanger-on, a coward, one unworthy of the blooding of her life sign. Had Rogon spoken such words to me before I had been chosen by Mida, her blood would have long since stained my blade.
“The war leader Jalav does not stand behind the swordarm of another,” said Rogon at last, slowly, reluctantly, unwilling to give over her anger. “She, like all loyal Midanna, stands solely behind the shield of Mida—yet farther behind than any Midanna warrior known to us. We do not fear you, Jalav, and yet—to face Jalav is not to face Mida.”
“Rogon speaks the truth,” said I, nodding grimly. “Jalav wears a sword, whereas Mida wears none. Mida has not Jalav’s need for a sword. Jalav was given a difficult task to see to, yet was Jalav assured of the assistance of sister Midanna, for Jalav is not Mida and cannot see to the task alone. Did you doubt that this task was given me, Rogon, that you and your sisters now stand in awe of the proof that Mida continues to watch over her warrior? Has it yet come to you that by cause of the task given me, I am denied the glory of death in battle? The burden of Mida’s love is a heavy one; must you add to it by seeing me as that which I am not?”
Rogon’s dark eyes gazed full upon me, her stare and silence well shared by those who stood with her, all anger seemingly having drained from their bodies. A war leader must have the obedience of those who follow her, that and their respect; all else is a drain upon the strength of a clan, a blot upon their battle spirit. Was I to receive the awe and fear of those about me, surely would my cause be more easily seen to without them. This, I felt, was at last understood by those who were called war leaders, those who would have stood like children before me. Many of them breathed deeply, straightening their bodies as befitted warriors of Mida, and then did Tilim step the closer to stand beside Rogon.
“Jalav, I for one ask that we begin this meeting as though for the first time,” said Tilim, her head held high. “It seems I have taken too many males for my pleasure, rattling my wits through the length of their use. I have no memory of that which occurred when first I entered this chamber.”
“And I!” said another with a laugh, and “I, too!” said a third, and soon were each of them filled with laughter and agreement, standing about as though in a use tent, rather than in the presence of a Keeper. Filled with pleasure and pride, I quickly drained the pot of renth I had taken, gestured to them to join me upon the floor cloth, then began a discussion of that which I hoped to accomplish come the new light.
It was clear to all that there was little time for lengthy discussions, therefore did they hear me out with no more than frowns to indicate their lack of understanding. Warriors see matters differently than do males, yet was it to be males with whom we were faced come the new light, therefore was it necessary that these war leaders be told of male beliefs. No warrior would be swayed from her purpose on Mida’s behalf by a threat to the life of one of her sisters, for her sister’s fate would surely be in the hands of Mida. With her purpose seen to, she would then take what revenge was called for, yet would that purpose be seen to first. Also, should a warrior be challenged, that challenge would not be refused though the warrior knew she would undoubtedly be bested and slain. Each instance was no more than that effort demanded by a sense of honor, yet males were well known to have naught of honor within them. My warriors were bewildered and somewhat disbelieving when I rose to my feet to quit the chamber, yet did they follow me without reluctance, intending to find, themselves, the truth of the matters I had spoken of. I felt no insult at their disbelief, for the doings of males must be seen to give proof to the contention that even they might be so low and without honor. My warriors knew little of the doings of males, yet would they learn.