2
Islat—and a city is spoken of
The arrival of the new light saw my warriors and myself already mounted in preparation for departure. More than twenty hands in number were we, a force large enough to press an advantageous attack, yet small enough to disguise its presence should it become necessary. My warriors were anxious to be gone, and I was too. Rilas, who had come to bid us farewell, stood beside my gando.
“The fey will be a warm, fair one,” she observed, examining the bright streaks in the slowly lightening sky. “Mida smiles upon your efforts, Jalav.”
“That remains to be seen,” said I, regarding my warriors in their places. Their clan colors about their hips showed them proudly as Hosta, their life signs tied firmly about their necks showed them eager for battle. Their hair, like mine, was bound with war leather, for we rode to recover the Crystal wherever it might be found. “A fey black with the clouds of rain may be fairest of all, Rilas,” I said, “should victory in battle show Mida’s pleasure.”
“True, Jalav.” Rilas smiled, placing her hand upon the binding scale of my gando. “It is when the warriors of Mida ride out in such a manner that I wish I, too, were yet a warrior. The sight stirs my blood, war leader, and brings memories of long ago. Much glory do I wish you, Jalav, and ask Mida’s blessings for you and your quest.”
“We shall return with the Crystal should it be Mida’s will.”
I smiled, then placed my hand briefly upon hers. “See to that of which we have spoken, and perhaps we may one fey speak again.”
She nodded then, and stepped back with a smile, her hand raised in farewell. I looked again at my warriors, felt the proud weight of my shield upon my left arm, the smooth, slim shaft of my spear in my right hand, then nodded too, and struck my gando with my spear. I led my warriors from the camp and we rode forth upon our gandod, perhaps to victory, perhaps to the glory of death in battle, none knew and none cared. It is the privilege of a warrior of the Midanna to ride forth when there is need and desire.
I had considered Bellinard, and therefore led my warriors to the road to Islat. It would be well to seek quiet entrance to Bellinard if possible, therefore we should stop in Islat to exchange gandod for Kand. The gando, while excellent for battle, is feared for its temper and intractability, and never may one be found within the walls of the cities. If we wanted to ride between the gates of Bellinard, it would best be done upon the backs of kand, and kand might be had in Islat. The road to Islat was a short one, a mere four hind in the traveling.
Islat was a village much larger than the Hosta camp, and had found a safety for itself in trade with the Hosta. Little did my warriors require that they were unable to obtain for themselves, yet were there articles such as clan silks and woven goods, candles, arrowheads, and well-made knives, that those of Islat might offer. In turn, we of the Hosta provided pelts of the children of the wild, those that village males and city males feared to seek themselves. The woods and forests looked harshly upon those who had insufficient knowledge of them, and too often had the Hosta found the remains of those who had tried for the pelts and had failed. The Hosta had let it be known that Islat lay beneath our protection, and only once had it been necessary to avenge a raid. A small, independent band of Harra had taken males from Islat, yet there had been little difficulty in tracking them. All six Harra had been taken, the two males released from the leather which bound them, and the Harra, bound themselves, were given over to the remaining males of Islat. The time had been before I had become a warrior, therefore the fate of the six Harra was unknown to me, though it was known well enough to others that Islat had never again been touched in raid.
The new light was high and bright when first we reached the beginning of Islat. The village spread about upon the bank of the Dennin river, which ran east and west through the land of the Hosta. Crossing the Dennin was necessary and fairly easy. All crossings were known to the Midanna, and I, myself, had crossed it while still a warrior. I would cross it now as war leader, and touch its wetness to my forehead as reminder that we rode to battle where wetness of another sort would be expected. Some thought that the wetness of the Dennin would guard against the free running of blood from a wound, and it would be foolish to overlook the possibility.
The males of Islat emerged from their low dwellings to stand in surprise beside their staring slavewomen as we rode through the village to the Headman’s dwelling. Even had the Hosta not traded there the fey previous, the sight of the shields and spears we carried was sufficient to inform them that a thing not often seen was beginning. The slavewomen were ordered within their dwellings with the little ones, and the males accompanied us toward the center of their village, wary and distrustful, and keeping their distance from my warriors and our gandod. I smiled at their actions as I rode, reflecting that the distance they kept would hardly have seen to their safety had it been their village against which we rode. The farthest of them was still well within reach of our spears.
Maranu, Headman of Islat, stood before the entrance to his dwelling, awaiting us. Although he did not retreat before the snapping snouts of our dancing gandod, he seemed tense. He wished to know why we rode in such numbers to his village, for never had he seen such a thing. Strangely, he had been Headman for many kalod, and remained Headman in spite of his graying hair. Perhaps his still-strong figure allowed for this, perhaps the vigor he retained did. Or perhaps he was most aided in that the males of Islat had no battles to face—the youth of the warriors of the Hosta stood protection for them and their village. I reined in my gando, and gazed down upon him.
“We of Islat make you welcome, war leader,” said he in a tone which neither took nor gave. “May we do a service for you and your warriors?”
“Indeed, Maranu.” I smiled to ease his tension. “The Hosta ride to battle, yet we need to trade for a small number of kand.”
“Always are we honored to trade with the Hosta,” Maranu replied with a smile of his own. The other males about him seemed relieved to learn that we came for naught save trade. “Would Jalav care to step down and accept the poor warmth of my home?” Maranu offered.
I wanted to get on with our journey, but it would be discourteous to refuse the offer. “Maranu is most kind,” I said, giving to Larid, who rode beside me, my shield and spear. “I shall be pleased to share the warmth of his home.”
I slid from my gando, then walked to where Maranu waited. His dark eyes were on a level with mine, and it pleased me that they did not avoid my gaze. Many of the males who stood about looked nervously down as my gaze brushed them, remembering, perhaps, the sport my warriors may have had with them at some time.
Maranu stepped aside, motioning with his arm that I was to precede him to his dwelling. Never would I allow one who was not of the Hosta to remain behind me, yet it was necessary to do such a thing in Islat. Their customs were not like those of the Midanna, and for the sake of peace, I must follow them. Therefore I preceded Maranu into his dwelling.
The dwelling was of rude wooden logs rather than leather, and was divided within to form more than a single room. One entered a room given over to strange odors and stale air, a large fire, and the clutter of many objects, all of which were used in the partaking of food and drink. Many pots of various sizes were ranged about the room, yet none stood upon the small, legless platform which was positioned beneath the wide window in the left wall. I went to the platform as I knew was expected of me, and sat easily upon the dirt floor beside it. Maranu, directly behind me, took his place upon the floor on the other side of the platform, then turned to his slavewoman.