A great silence had fallen at my words, words which turned the looks of Galiose and Ceralt and Lialt and Telion odd indeed. They seemed taken aback by the truths I had voiced, truths they no longer seemed able to deny. Galiose avoided my eye and Ceralt stared with pain-filled intensity, Lialt flinched as though a lash had touched him, and Telion gave the appearance of a small child whose trust had been betrayed.
“Wench, do not speak so,” said Telion in a rush, as though the words poured of themselves from his lips. “Such bitterness and pain! By the Serene Oneness, there are none here who would see you cut so deep from such memories. Are there no other, warmer memories with which to replace them? Was there not laughter and joy as well as hurt for you among us?”
“What laughter and joy might a wench find among the followers of the accursed Oneness?” asked Chaldrin in a growl, his left fist nearly white about the hilt of his sword. “I have heard her speak before concerning her time in your midst, and were you not in possession of the word of Sigurr’s Shadow concerning your safety—”
“And what might her time have been like among the followers of Sigurr the foul?” demanded Telion, straightening to the fullness of his height to meet the blaze in Chaldrin’s dark eyes. “For what reason do you all ring her about so closely, as though fearful of what words she would speak were none to halt her? Does she truly wish your presence, or does fear of you keep her from sending you all from her, so that those who truly care for her may stand beside her? I am unable to believe . . . ”
“Those who truly care for her already stand beside her!” snarled Chaldrin, so completely bereft of his usual calm that he seemed nearly a stranger. “Were you familiar with the true nature of this wench, you would know that fear is no part of her! Neither in battle with words nor in battle with swords does fear touch her, and never shall it . . . .”
“To allow a wench to enter battle with weapons is to show naught of true care for her!” snapped Ceralt, adding his heated glare to that which Telion already sent Chaldrin. “Should a man’s feelings be truly deep, he will keep her from danger of maiming or death! For her sake and his own will he do the thing, accepting her wailings and moanings concerning his cruelty with the strength of knowing he labors in the cause of right!”
“The cause of right!” echoed Mehrayn in full ridicule, standing himself beside Chaldrin to draw the gaze of Ceralt. “Should one consider one’s own comfort as the cause of right, then to behave in such a manner would indeed be the thing he claims. To be truly a man is to know that one may not keep a wench from doing as she must, just as he does as he must. And in being truly a man one refrains from handing his wench about, else is she not his and he no man at all. A true man needs no aid from others to bring his wench to satiety.”
“What satiety might be gotten from a sword’s edge?” demanded Ceralt, furiously. “Should what the wench must do include lying half dead in her own blood, covered by the wounds of uncounted spear thrusts, does one merely step to the side and smile fondly, allowing the thing? Truly would such an action prove the doings of a man—were he a man with no thought for the wench save her use! He would then find little difficulty in keeping the taste of her his alone. Few others would so relish the use of one about to be taken to the arms of the gods.”
“Such things occur at times with one who is by birth a warrior,” said Mehrayn, his voice bleak as he looked at Ceralt. “Should a man be other than a warrior himself, he will find himself lacking in understanding of this truth—and would do well to take himself from warriors’ concerns.”
“One need not be called warrior to be well-versed in weapons use,” said Ceralt bleakly. “To turn from what another declares to be truth is to fail to face it and prove it a lie. Should the name warrior conceal a lack of stomach for keeping a willful wench from risking herself as she pleases, I find myself inordinately pleased to be called other than that.”
“One called warrior will stand beside the wench, raising his blade in support of her, seeing that she comes to no harm from her willfulness!” growled Mehrayn, he and Ceralt nearly nose to nose. “To feel it necessary to bind a willful wench is to declare oneself no warrior, no man, no thing of any sort worthy of notice! Should she overstep the bounds of good sense, she need only be punished somewhat to restore her sense of the proper. She need not be bound hand and foot!”
“Should binding her be the sole manner in which she might be kept unharmed, no man would hesitate!” returned Ceralt, his growl as deep as Mehrayn’s. “Nor would he hesitate to give her a good taste of the leather, should that be what she requires! Willful wenches must be tamed and taught to live in a man’s world, else shall the hands of all men be raised against her!”
“No man would allow the hands of other men to be raised against his woman, were she the most willful to have ever lived!” countered Mehrayn, fists upon hips as he glared upon Ceralt. The male who was the Belsayah High Rider stood the same, and no longer did I bother to hear the great foolishness they both spouted. Males were filled with incredible foolishness, and one must truly be bereft to give heed to them.
All those who stood about were deeply engrossed in the words exchanged by the two males, each according to his or her place. Rilas listened avidly with a great attentiveness upon her, Ennat gazed upon the two with bemusement and lack of understanding, Aysayn seemed nearly prepared to intrude upon the disagreement, Chaldrin stood at Mehrayn’s elbow, Telion and Lialt at Ceralt’s, and Galiose appeared to be both listening closely and lost in thought. S’Heernoh alone found naught save amusement in the antics of the two, a soft, secret chuckling to be heard from him, in no manner the same as the low, ridiculing laughter of those warriors who stood about. Warriors will often find amusement in the foolishness of males, but this fey I did not. As it was necessary to have those males about, it was equally as necessary that they be taught a proper manner of behavior.
Without hesitation I moved to the nearest warrior who held a spear, took the weapon from her, then made my way to the disputants. Telion and Chaldrin stared with surprise when I halted between them, yet could do no more than stare. Quickly and with the strength of my annoyance did I use the haft portion of the spear to rap sharply at the shin of first Ceralt and then Mehrayn, ending their exchange and sending them back from each other with yelps of pain. Save for the two males and myself, all those standing about laughed heartily as I looked with little approval upon the two who hopped about one-legged, holding or rubbing their injured limbs.
“Should the matter of safe conduct be ended, the war leader Jalav shall see first to the spilling of blood,” said I, sending an icy gaze first to one and then to the other of them. “Even warriors-to-be, not yet large enough to lift a sword, would know and understand the need to see to the strangers before other considerations. Long have I known that males are less than the youngest of warriors-to-be, yet had I not expected proof of that at so poor a time. Should you all wish to squabble among yourselves, the Midanna are well able to see to the strangers with none save their own.”