I shook my head, dismissing her, knowing full well the whereabouts of the life sign of her who had borne me. It lay with the Crystal of Mida, marking those who were destined to feel the edge of my blade, the heat of my rage. Mida would guide me to the life sign of her daughter, and there I would avenge the theft of glory. Rilas, knowing in some manner the turn of my thoughts, sat silently with her pipe, the life signs given her wrapped carefully about her free hand.
A disturbance by the captive caught my attention. The captive had consumed the meat brought for him, yet refused the drink which followed the meat. My warrior stood before him with the pot in her hands, and he looked at her with contempt.
“Do you take me for a fool, girl?” he demanded of her. “Sooner would I die of thirst than drink again in this camp! Take that from me, and do not return with it!”
“I see no reason for reluctance,” the warrior answered. “There is naught in the pot save fresh spring water.”
“And I am to believe that!” The captive laughed, shaking his great head at her. “I would indeed receive my due, were I to be so foolish. Be gone, girl child, and allow me my rest”
The warrior, indifferent, left with the pot, the second warrior accompanying her. The captive watched them gone, then gazed silently upon me with amusement, as though to say that he had bested us. I drank my daru, and smoked my pipe, and did not disabuse him.
The effects of the drug reached him sooner the second time, as is the way with the drug. His amusement left him slowly as he attempted to deny the beginnings of what he felt, and I smiled as I watched the onset of his willingless movement, and laughed when full realization at last claimed him.
“The pot contained naught save fresh spring water,” I informed him as he again fought the leather which bound him. “The drug was in the meat given you, cooked in to enhance the taste of it. Did you not find it enjoyable?”
“No!” he cried, throwing himself about in his despair. “You cannot force me to endure such treatment again! I am a warrior! A warrior!”
“You are merely a sthuvad,” I informed him from where I lay upon the leather of my tent floor. “A sthuvad is for the enjoyment of warriors, not a warrior himself. Is it that you were borne by a warrior and given to those of the cities to raise, that you speak of yourself as a warrior?”
“I am only of the cities,” he said, his eyes darting about, seeking escape. “I knew naught of your pack of female vipers before I was taken, yet I shall never forget what was done to me. Never!”
“We have found,” Rilas observed calmly, “that those who are taken and thereafter released seldom speak of their capture to others. I have often wondered why this is, yet I feel that in such a manner are the Midanna given further service. Few would travel within our reach should word of our practices be spread about. You, too, I believe, will say naught.”
The captive sent her a hate-filled look, proving the truth of her words, then fell back to the leather of the floor, writhing in his need. Laird and a hand of others appeared, laughing lightly, to once again remove him to the use tent. The meal had been taken by my warriors, and now they would seek entertainment.
The Keeper and I sat for some hind, discussing the why of the taking of the Crystal. Had the thing been done by enemy Midanna, the reason would easily be seen, yet for city males to wish to take it was beyond understanding. The Crystals had been given to the Midanna to guard, given by the heralds of Mida many and many kalod earlier, against the fey Mida would once again wish to use them, and city males would have no interest in them. None knew the proper use of the Crystals, yet was it thought that Mida would in some manner speak through them, informing her warriors of her wishes. The Hosta saw to one Crystal, and the enemy Silla saw to the other, though no word had come that the Crystal guarded by the Silla had been taken or attempted. I saw the need to send warriors to the Silla, to learn of the condition of the Crystal they guarded. I spoke of this to Rilas, and she agreed, insisting that the deed be done by Attendants. Knowing how keenly she and her Attendants felt the loss, I thought it best to accede to her wishes. The Attendants would be sent, and should they learn of something to aid me in my search, I would be quickly informed.
Rilas then retired to her tent. I found Fideran’s absence left a loneliness behind, so I went out into the darkness beyond my tent. The darkness was well lit by the presence of the Entry to Mida’s Realm, and the glowing, rounded gap in the darkness that ever changed its place made pale the tiny rends to all sides of it. To the despair of all Midanna, the Entry was not always in the skies, yet Mida knew of the needs of her daughters, and at such times allowed a memory of the glory of her Realm to shine through the tiny rends. My eyes gazed upon the Entry to Mida’s Realm, and I knew a sadness that all could not hope to be allowed through to the everlasting days of battle and happiness that were the rewards of the Midanna. I then heard the laughter of my warriors who had found interest in the use tent. I recalled the look of the captive, then smiled and also recalled my earlier resolve. My steps led quietly to the use tent, and I went in.
The use tent was warm with the bodies of my warriors, crouching within, and much did they laugh and compare the captive with others taken before him. A fire had been made for the brewing of daru, and many of my warriors sat upon the leather to one side of the captive, sipping from the pots of daru and calling instructions to the captive or the warrior who possessed him. The instructions were entirely in jest, yet the captive felt the barb of them deeply enough to attempt escape once again. His attempts caused further laughter, so alike were males and their ways—a simple jest often returned life to the most enfeebled of them.
I moved through the press of my warriors till I stood above the captive. He had been used hard, and had he not been of the strength he was, he might not have survived. His wrists and ankles bled from his struggles, his face had lost its color, his covering was stained and twisted about upon him. Only his eyes remained the same, filled with an endless store of fury and hate. I stood beside him quietly, my eyes examining his form with pleasure as my warrior continued to make use of him. His own eyes came to me, and did not leave me again.
My warrior finished with him and arose, and still I remained standing at his side. No warrior stirred in the tent, for though they knew that use of him was at an end, still they wondered if the war leader would honor him. I felt the leather of the tent floor beneath my feet, saw the rise and fall of the captive’s chest, smelled the sweat that covered his body and caused his red-gold mane to lie about him in greasy strands. My eyes moved to his and I smiled at the desire I saw ablaze there, a desire even greater than the fury that had gripped him so many times that fey. The sthuvad found pleasure in the sight of Jalav, war leader of the Hosta of the Midanna, and his desire blazed forth, above the urging of the drug, for all to see. I stood a moment longer, holding his eyes, then spoke to my warriors without turning.
“Secure him through the darkness,” said I, “and see that he is well guarded. I would not care to have him stolen from us when he has rendered such faithful service.”
The laughter of my warriors, and the sounds of their rising from their places, covered the snarl of the sthuvad as he again writhed in rage. So sure had he been that he would be honored, that his desires would be seen to, that I would use him as my warriors had. Yet I was war leader, and did as I wished. I turned from the captive and strode from the use tent, returning immediately to my own tent. The sight of the shield and spear of the war leader warmed me as always, and I regretted having given Fideran to another. I extinguished the candles, then, sought my sleeping leather, my dagger fast in my hand as was proper.