“I suggest that you withdraw your wenches immediately, girl,” said Galiose, a heavy satisfaction now to be heard from him. “When they emerge from the city they must surrender their weapons, and then we shall see what is to be done with all of you.”
“Midanna do not surrender,” I remarked, continuing to take note of the doings of the males who were encamped to my right. The small number of spears I was able to see amused me, so male-like was the lack. “Your numbers are scarcely as impressive as you believe, male, scarcely great enough to bring about consideration of dismissal concerning battle.”
“And yet his numbers are enhanced by mine,” came another voice, disallowing me the opportunity of suggesting that Galiose himself consider surrender. “As my forces are even greater in number than his, you shall indeed dismiss all consideration of battle.”
There was little haste in the manner in which I turned back to regard the one who had spoken, the one whose appearance I had known would come. Ceralt had come up to stand not far from Galiose, his large, broad body clad in the leathers of those who followed him, his silvered belt gleaming in Mida’s light, a swordbelt clasped about him below it. Firmly were his booted feet planted upon the ground; in his eyes, the look of command, a lock of dark hair, as ever, falling toward those eyes. Had I not known he would appear I would surely have shamed myself voicing a sound of pain at sight of him, a sight I had hungered for so often since we had parted in Mida’s realm upon this world. While there, I had sent him word that we would not meet again save above the blades of our swords, and although I had since learned what pain he had accepted to keep similar pain from touching me, I had come to the decision that to speak of my knowledge before the battle with the coming strangers was joined and ended would be foolish. Ceralt would not stand in that battle, yet my sword would be well occupied. To speak sooner upon that which might well be ended by an enemy edge would be foolishness indeed.
“Your arrival is most timely, Ceralt,” said Galiose, gazing with strong satisfaction not upon the male beside him, but upon me. “The foolish wench again contemplates disobedience, and requires a strong hand to teach her better.”
“My thanks are yours for having notified me of her arrival, Galiose,” said Ceralt, his eyes, too, only upon me, his arms folded across his chest. “Many feyd gone, Lialt informed me that I would discover her here, yet the Snows are no longer accessible to him. As I now have what I came for, my riders and I will withdraw as quickly as you no longer require our support. When we have discovered the location of the battle to come with those who threaten us, I will be certain that you are informed.”
“For that you will have my gratitude, Ceralt,” said Galiose, a flicker of trimness briefly darkening his eyes. “We must all stand together in these times, else shall none of us survive. You shall now call your wenches from out the city, girl, and then you may depart with the man who has made you his. As he means to speak sternly with you concerning the manner in which you disobediently left his side, I shall not find it necessary to do the same concerning the manner in which you departed my city. You will be occupied quite enough with what is given you by him.”
The male seemed amused as he spoke, an amusement shared by those who stood with Ceralt. Lialt, Ceralt’s brother by blood and Pathfinder for him, and Telion, male warrior from Ranistard who had joined his fate with Ceralt’s, stood grinning with their eyes upon me, likely recalling the difficulty given me by them during the journey we had shared. That Ceralt felt more anger than amusement gave them greater amusement still, yet I, too, recalled our journey together and felt no amusement whatsoever.
“Jalav is already well occupied,” said I coldly to Galiose, ignoring the others. “There are matters of import to be seen to, and the presence of pretend warriors would be a hindrance, therefore shall you command your males to return from whence they came. You shall do so immediately, for there is little time to be spent upon foolishness of this sort.”
“Pretend warriors?” demanded Galiose, furiously. “You dare to speak so to me? I am the High Seat of Ranistard with fifteen hundred men behind me, girl! Beside me is the Belsayah High Rider with nearly two thousand! What number of men do you command?”
“For what reason would I wish to command males?” I asked, with private amusement. “Your greatness turns me humble in your presence, Galiose, for I am no more than war leader to every Midanna who rides. The command of males should be left to other males.”
At my earlier nod, Ennat had raised a fisted hand in prearranged signal, bringing to sight those Midanna who waited behind us. Clan after clan rode their gandod to the top of the rise, pausing there in anticipation of the signal to attack, their clan colors bright, their eagerness impossible to dismiss. A mutter went up all about as those before me stared in frowning shock, and when their eyes returned to me another shock awaited them.
“The wench does indeed believe in leaving the command of men to other men,” said Aysayn from his place to my left, also amused. “However, as she is the chosen messenger of Sigurr the great, we feel it only fitting that Sigurr’s legions stand with her own.”
The fist of Mehrayn was already in the air, bringing forth the Sigurri as the Midanna had been done. More than twice the number of Midanna were they, black body cloths wrapped about their loins, kand dancing beneath them, battle-readiness and delight clear in every line of them. Far longer did the Sigurri take the stares of those before us than had the Midanna, and then did Ceralt turn cold and frowning pools of blue upon Aysayn and Mehrayn.
“Who are you?” he demanded, the words nearly a growl, his anger strangely great. “From where do you come?”
“I am Aysayn,” said Aysayn, taking no note of Ceralt’s displeasure, “he who is Sigurr’s Shadow upon this world. We come from our homelands at the behest of Sigurr himself.”
“And I am Mehrayn, Sigurr’s Sword and Prince of the Blood, he who is privileged to lead our warriors into battle,” said Mehrayn, an odd expression holding him as he looked down upon Ceralt. “Your journey has been for naught, High Rider of the Belsayah, therefore would you be wise to depart as quickly as may be.”
“Ceralt, they are warriors of Signurr, the aid we must have against the coming strangers!” said Lialt eagerly to his brother as he looked upon the Sigurri. “Our journey to Sigurr’s Altar has borne the fruit we require.”
“Such is to be seen,” said Ceralt in a mutter, his stance straightened to his full height, his left palm caressing his sword hilt as he held the green gaze sent him by Mehrayn. “For what reason would they appear here, before the gates of a wench-taken city, rather than at the place of appearance of the strangers? How might they—”
His words, spoken half in annoyance, ended abruptly, and then he frowned at Aysayn.
“You come here at the behest of Sigurr himself, were the words you spoke,” said he to Aysayn, palm no longer upon sword hilt. “Is this, then, the place where the strangers will appear? Have we all been sent here by the gods to welcome them in the sole manner they must be welcomed?”
“My sister has been informed by her lady Mida that this is the place they will appear,” affirmed Aysayn. “As for the gods having brought you others to this spot, that is surely unlikely in the extreme. What need of others, when Sigurri and Midanna ride side by side?”
“You would have wenches do battle beside you?” demanded Galiose, glaring in outrage at Aysayn. “For battle a man requires other men like himself, not wenches with half the force of his own!”
“The city contains the balance of my Midanna,” said I. I had not expected the words Aysayn had spoken, and they had warmed me for the insult they returned to those who had given it to me. “In the city is a matching force to that which you see before you, therefore need you be unconcerned with what number of Midanna shall ride. You may have what hind you require to take your followers from here, yet would it be best if you used no more than the hind of this fey. The new fey may well bring the strangers, and little joy shall you find should you discover yourself between them and the warriors come to slay them.”