“Perfectly,” said he, seeming annoyed and frustrated, he withdrew a pace. “It was not my intention to intrude, war leader, and I ask your pardon.”
A wordless sound came from my throat in response to his reply, for no true words were called for. The male spoke properly self-effacing words in apology for his intrusion, yet did I continue to find annoyance in his presence. I knew not why this should be so, yet it was.
No more than three paces farther were Wedin and Dotil and the two Sigurri, and as I approached, their words came clear to me.
“. . . shall, of course, consider you,” said Dotil to the Sigurri before her, amusement clear in her tone. “Midanna will ever consider those males who wish to follow them, yet not to the exclusion of all others. My sister and I already have a male who is eager to serve us, and perhaps, should he prove inadequate . . . . ”
“We will then be allowed to make the attempt to please you,” said one of the males, clearly exasperated. “You mean to have us stand about till then, praying to Sigurr for the failure of another, so that we might then perform for the honor of a wench in our furs’? Do you take us for slavies of the Caverns?”
“Should you be too persistent, we will not take you in any manner,” put in Wedin, her left hand arest upon the hilt of her sword. “It amuses us to see males skip about before us in an attempt to gain our attention, yet too great an insistence brings annoyance rather than amusement. Should your need be so great that you are unable to contain it, perhaps you would do well to speak to the war leader here. Possibly she has not yet settled upon a male for the darkness.”
The eyes of the two males came to me where I stood, taking no note of the dagger I handed across to Wedin, their gazes immediately filling with startlement which quickly became the approval and heat which was usual when males gazed upon me. Jalav stood without covering or weapon of any sort, and the two light-haired Sigurri grinned well before the male who had spoken earlier slowly shook his head.
“It would give us great pleasure to speak to the war leader,” said he, “and yet speak to her is all we might do. Had we a wish for an early entrance to Sigurr’s Eternal Legions, there are far simpler and less painful methods of beginning the journey than putting a hand to the chosen of Sigurr’s Sword. I, personally, consider it a great pity and loss, yet there is naught I may do for it.”
“I am the chosen of none save Mida,” said I to the male. “Sigurr’s Sword will not share this war leader’s sleeping leather till he faces her, and perhaps not even then. Should it be my desire to use you or your brother, male, you will come to me when summoned.”
“Only should it be Sigurr himself who summons,” said the second male, both continuing to grin well. “Sooner would I face the wrath of a wench than the wrath of Mehrayn. Not for naught is he Prince of Sigurr’s Sword.”
“And not for naught is Jalav the chosen of Mida,” said I, looking upon the two fools of males for a final time. “As you are free I may not merely take your use, yet are we three Midanna free as well. As you refuse this war leader, so shall you be refused by her warriors. Perhaps the Sword you stand in so great a fear of will allow you to return to your city.”
Dotil and Wedin chuckled well at the immediate stricken look which took the two Sigurri males, and then did the Summa take themselves back to the toray carcass the while I continued on to my weapons and breech. Much would it have pleased me to have no males about upon that journey, yet had the presence of Mehrayn and Chaldrin grown to two further Sigurri and the stranger S’Heernoh as well. The matter had moved far beyond my ability to halt or alter, therefore I had to trust in Mida to rid me of the males before my arrival at the visiting. Were she to fail to do so, she would undoubtedly find the necessity for deciding upon another chosen, if not by cause of the enemy Midanna, then surely because of the males themselves.
With breech and weapons replaced and my life sign again wound about my dagger hilt, I hefted the pouch of that which brought the Clouds of Seeing and then resolutely made for my kan. Chaldrin and Ilvin had ridden up to add their kand to the string of those of the rest of us, and as I reached my kan I saw the abrupt appearance of Mehrayn beside the two. The red-haired male had taken a moment or two to wring the wetness from his black body cloth before replacing it along with his weapons, and now his hand fell heavily upon the shoulder of Chaldrin.
“Greetings, brother, greetings!” said he to Chaldrin in so jovial a tone that the white-clad male turned to look upon him in startlement. “How pleased I am to have you join us!”
“Perhaps I am mistaken,” said Chaldrin in a drawl, “yet do I feel that the Sword would have been even more pleased had I not joined this group. Had I been alone it might well have been so, yet the wench I ride with is able to read the forests as another reads the scarring upon his own palm.”
“Not at all, brother,” said Mehrayn, the heartiness dropping from his voice as his hand withdrew from Chaldrin’s shoulder. “I have waited anxiously to thank you for speaking so well of me, better than I had thought you would. A man is pleased to know that another thinks so highly of him.”
“What has she done?” asked Chaldrin with immediate weariness, one broad hand moving to rub at his eyes. “It can be no other thing than the wench, and I would . . . ”
“She has challenged me!” said Mehrayn with such low fury that Chaldrin winced visibly at his vehemence. “She was told how able I am with a blade, and has therefore deemed me able enough to face her!”
“You have no need to accept the challenge,” said Chaldrin, considerable strain audible in his voice. “Her blood need not be spilled in order for her to learn that you are able to best her.”
“Her blood!” hissed Mehrayn, his fury growing. “You know well enough that I could not strike her, yet what would there be to stay her weapon? In no manner would I find myself able to counter her, yet do I also foolishly wish to remain unsliced! And I cannot simply refuse her challenge. If I fail to face her, I will never again be allowed the pleasure of her! Why could you not have told her I was inept, and was named Sigurr’s Sword only through the influence of my family? For what reason was it necessary to laud me to the skies?”
“I spoke without thought,” said Chaldrin with a sigh. “The wench demanded to know the reason I had no wish to face you, and I spoke the truth without thought as to what its effect would be on her. Does she mean to force you to the challenge?”
“By no means,” said Mehrayn in a voice near to a growl, his light eyes meeting Chaldrin’s dark ones levelly. Nearly of a size were those two males, and although Chaldrin was larger of girth, Mehrayn had the shoulder-width of him. “By no means am I to be forced to the challenge,” said Mehrayn, vexation holding him close. “I need not face the stubborn she-lenga till I am of a mind to do so. Once I have faced her she will consider allowing me entrance to her sleeping leather, yet till then I am to look elsewhere for release. Sigurr take me, I have no wish to look elsewhere!” In vexation did the male begin to stalk about, yet a sudden thought turned him back to Chaldrin. “Nearly did I miss the point, so befuddled does that wench cause me to be. For what reason would you need to face me, that it was necessary for you to speak of why you would not wish to?”
The abrupt question seemed one Chaldrin had expected, yet expectation had not heartened him to its coming. Again he sighed, as though resigned to some matter, and slowly shook his head at Mehrayn.
“When once the dark god turns his face from a man, never again does he smile upon him,” said he to a puzzled Mehrayn. “I had thought the Caverns the harshest thing I would face through Sigurr’s displeasure, yet have I found that there are things beyond harshness. I would not retract my vow to the wench even were I able, and yet—I had hoped for more time to stand beside her.”