Maranu seemed startled a moment, then he laughed with hearty good cheer. “I beg your pardon, war leader,” he said with a wide grin. “It was not my intention to insult you. I surely know of no man with whom you might be paired. I shall personally see to the selection of the kand, and offer the comfort of my dwelling for your use.”
He stepped back with a small bow, and I watched him depart, sure that he had made sport of me in some way. His words betrayed naught save apology, yet his manner....
“War leader.” I turned at the softly spoken words, and beheld Yereh beside the entrance to the other room. Her dark eyes held gratitude, and she smiled most gently. “War leader, I would offer my thanks for your not having stabbed at the pride of my man,” she said. “The gesture was small, yet required a great warrior in the doing. I ask Mida’s blessings for you, and shall speak to the skies of your wisdom.”
“You have the sound to you of the Midanna,” I observed, studying her, “but surely this cannot be.”
She reddened somewhat, and lowered her head. “I was of the Midanna,” she whispered, her hand going to where her life sign would lie. “I was of the Harra, but was taken by the Hosta for raiding, and given as captive to this village.” She seemed pained. “I have been here many kalod, yet have I never forgotten the ways of the Midanna.”
“Why do you remain?” I asked, surprised to learn she had once been a warrior. She seemed no different from the other slavewomen of the village, although I then realized that she had known me by the presence of the second silver ring of the war leader.
“At first, I remained because Maranu held my life sign.” She smiled, somehow amused by so terrible a fate. “Though he beat me when I disobeyed him, I could not return to the Harra without my life sign. I planned for long and long, searching for an opportunity to recover it, and then, at last, I did. Then I discovered, upon its recovery, that Maranu held my heart, war leader, and with my life sign upon my breast, I found that I could not leave him. He beat me soundly when he discovered that I had taken my life sign from him, but he has never beaten me since. My life is his, till the day that Mida calls.”
“It is difficult to see how Mida might allow such a thing,” I said, shocked that a warrior would fail to return to her clan when she was able. “Perhaps Mida was offended by you in some way.”
“Perhaps.” She nodded. “And yet there is another possibility. Perhaps Mida found herself particularly pleased with me. It is the first thing I shall ask when Mida’s throne is before me.”
“You are wise in your choice of First Question,” I said, pleased that it was Mida’s lot, and not mine, to answer her. The strange odors and stale air of the dwelling disturbed me, so I went out to return to my warriors. The village males still stood about, some inspecting my warriors, some avoiding their eyes. My warriors waited at ease, many inspecting the village males in turn, some regarding the passage of the light with impatience. I, too, felt impatience, so led my warriors to the enclosure that contained the village’s kand. Maranu and two other males had chosen the hand of required kand, and had made a string of them with a long length of leather. The kand were frightened when one of my warriors rode close upon her gando to take the end of the leather, yet were easy to manage. The warrior led them to the rear of our host, and so as far as possible from the gandod they feared, and two lenga pelts were thrown to the feet of Maranu. The two males with him quickly and carefully lifted the pelts from the dirt, brushing at the long, magnificent fur, both of the color of golden light. Village males seem more than fond of lenga pelts, and do not understand why the Hosta do not use such pelts themselves. Yet when one has fought the lenga in the forests, it is truly a slap to Mida herself to debase so glorious a fighter when the battle is done. The lenga is the life sign of many of the Midanna, as the hadat is mine, and its pelt is only used for things the Midanna must have. The living evidence of a life sign should not be casually slighted.
Maranu examined the pelts, then turned to me with a smile. “A matched pair,” said he in approval. “The two are indeed the worth of three. Even should the kand not be returned in trade, Jalav, I shall consider the matter equitably seen to.”
“I am pleased you are satisfied,” I said. “May Mida guard you and your people till our return.”
I raised my hand in farewell, as did Maranu, then led my warriors past the kan enclosure toward the river. The crossing I wanted to use was not far distant. The two males who had stood beside Maranu had seemed surprised and a bit uncertain at my words to the Headman. The Hosta, though often riding to battle, did not commit their entire number to a venture, nor did they leave Islat unprotected. Now, should it become necessary, the males of Islat must fight to protect themselves till the Hosta returned. Perhaps the males did not care overmuch for such an eventuality.
Islat was long out of sight when we paused for the crossing. My warriors and I would cross in four sets, the first set being the most dangerous position. Should an enemy be waiting on the far side, those of the first set might be downed with arrows before they were able to reach the bank and draw blade. Some small help might be had from the bows of the warriors who had yet to cross, therefore were bows strung and arrows nocked as I rode with the first set toward the water.
The river was warm yet refreshing after our ride, and our gandod entered it eagerly, pleased to be allowed its wetness. We swam the distance across, our shields held before us, our spears above the water level, our eyes moving constantly to catch the first sign of movement from the opposite shore. From the middle of the river I dabbed the wetness on my forehead, and each of my warriors did the same. Then the far bank was reached and the next set began the swim as the warriors about me watched carefully that we might not be taken by surprise. The kand, in the care of two warriors rather than one, crossed in the third set, and soon stood shivering in our midst. The fourth set came and joined us, and we paused to feed before continuing on.
Nilnod do taste as good raw as when cooked, and sufficient had been slain so that we and the gandod might feed to our fill. Midanna rarely cook meat when on the move, for a fire, like a tent, announces one’s presence to enemy and quarry alike. The kand ate only the grass beneath their feet, and that nervously and with poor appetite. Kand are delicate beasts, and I was afraid they might die before we reached Bellinard, therefore I directed a hand of my warriors to ride ahead with them, leaving their gandod, so that the odor and presence of gandod might be spared the beasts. My warriors didn’t like this but obeyed, and our journey north continued with purpose.
The land through which we traveled was unfamiliar. The feyd were as warm as those to which we were accustomed, yet the dark was colder. Through forests empty of all life save that of the children of the wild we rode, and saw no dwellings even far from our lane of passage. A strange peace was upon us, strange in that though we rode to battle, our minds were free and without care, there in the vast forests, beneath the skies of Mida. My warriors laughed much among themselves, joking lightly with each other as we went farther and farther. Although few might return to the home tents of the Hosta, we were happy.
At dark upon the eleventh fey, we halted as always to take our final meal, and then to seek our sleeping leather. The kills of the fey were being divided when the abrupt return of the hand of relieving warriors for the kand surprised me. No longer had they the meat they had taken with them, and their haste seemed an omen of ill tidings.
“War leader!” gasped the first of them breathlessly as she slid from her gando before me. “Our warriors have been taken captive—by males!”