With a little more than a twitch of his knees Roger corrected Mars’s direction as three riders trotted single file along a narrow path. He had been given a great opportunity because of his former nobility, and still noble blood. A scouting party had to be sent out into the eastern Zerui lands, and he was leading it. He, along with two other young knights, had been making a moderate pace for three hours, and they were now winding their way around a valley where barbarians were said to have been spotted.

Unfortunately, the heavy clopping of the warhorses was in no way stealthy, and the tinkling clatter of the partial armor they all wore did not lead very effectively to sneaking about. On the other hand, he had elected to wear thus; because if they were assaulted, he would rather be wearing some armor and have a trusty charger beneath him.

The three young men had been peering through the foliage. They were looking down into the small valley to their right to see if they could spot any foe. Twice false alarms had been shouted when one of the trio had assumed he had spotted a barbarian. The first had turned out to be a deer. The second alarm they had not found anything, and had finally agreed it must have been a trick of the light.

Roger noticed a small area ahead where the forest thinned out. A stream also trickled gently through the clearing on its journey down into the valley. “Gentlemen let us stop here for a bit and rest the mounts,” he said directly, “I know Mars could use a breather if he is going to be soon chasing down the pagan beasts. You two go ahead and dismount, rest, and see to your horses. I will remain mounted for a time in case we are surprised.”

His hand drifted down to the hilt of his sword. He softly released it from its sheath and then returned it; checking to see that it was still properly oiled and ready to jump into his hand at a moments notice. He lovingly patted Mars’s flank as they stood watching; his eyes continually peered around into the forest of trees about them.

Nahia was going to be married in a week, and almost all of her sisters had returned to the tribe of their girlhood to help Nahia prepare for her upcoming nuptials. “Gogo and Indar are too busy doing manly things to help you prepare, Nahia,” Sagari had said. “Besides, do you really want a man to lead you through the ceremonies before the wedding?”

No, Nahia had thought, [I I do not want a man to lead me through the ceremonies. In fact, let’s skip the all the ceremonies, including the wedding.[/I]

She tried to remember all of her sister’s weddings. She had been too young to remember many, too young to participate in some. The only wdding she could really remember was Igone’s. Had Igone gone into her marriage unwillingly? It wasn’t like Igone had put off marriage—she was sixteen when she married. She hadn’t seemed excited, not to Nahia’s young eyes, but was it fear or plain nervousness that had shown in her eyes?

It wasn’t that Nahia was frightened of Gergori—far from it. Nahia’s reasons for her reluctance were plain and simple: she simply didn’t want to marry. She was not quite finished with the freedom being an unmarried woman. Besides, it would be much more complicated to maintain any ties with the Thiasans.

Nahia had been plotting her excuses for if she ever was caught with a Thiasan again when Igone had suddenly excused her from the wedding preparations. When the rest of her sisters protested, Igone shrugged. “She hasn’t been paying attention for the last hour, Txori. She’s nervous, and needs to walk it off. Nahia’s always been like that, remember?”

That is how Nahia found herself not terribly far from da’Izotzi, attempting to restrain herself from wandering any further. Igone had been kind in letting her wander off, and Nahia didn’t want to break that trust. But, as Nahia’s luck would have it, she didn’t have to wander far to find something interesting.

There were three of them, all somewhat covered in glittering metal. Armor, Nahia thought, sounding out the word slowly in her head. And their horses--the horses were huge, easily able to dwarf Indar’s finest. Strong, powerful, but very likely not anywhere near as fast as Indar’s horses.

They were too near—there would be a skirmish if they came any closer. Certainly, that would disrupt the wedding planning… but unless her husband-to-be was actually killed, the actual wedding would still continue on. Seeing as Gergori had yet to arrive, there was very little chance of having the wedding cancelled. What was there to do, then but chase them off? If she had a little fun while she did it, then so be it.

Nahia stepped loudly out into the open, attempting to make her appearance clear. “Hello!” She greeted, using her best accent.

Renna was dreaming on Jenny. She'd never actually gotten around to giving her family's stolen horse a proper Zerui name, but then again the girl was pretty sure that the mare would not appreciate it anyway. Jenny was a good, solid, steady brown farmhorse-and that was it. She was rather like Renna in that she would never be a whirling Baskari warrior. The Thiasan woman smiled to herself and leaned forward to pat Jenny's neck affectionately. It was comforting to not be the only one who didn't quite fit in.

Her thoughts were interrupted when Jenny lifted her head and pricked her ears, staring down at the other end of the valley. Renna shifted nervously on her seat and peered over the mare as best as she could, willing her green gaze to go as far as it could. This was her quiet little valley. For months now nothing has so much as moved to make her horse startle, but now- something was definitely coming. Unease stirred and she tightened her legs around the mare in an attempt to make her back up and move safely into the trees.

It was too late.

Jenny caught the scent of other horses and men, and tossed her head with a whinny that could only be considered pure joy. Finally a smell she knew! Hay and leather and men and stable and not the sweet grasses she'd been grazing on for so long. Oats. Renna had to bite back a cry as the disobediant creature leapt forward to greet her new friends, already feeling a cold sweat start. White men. White men, here! With her, the way she was....and then a Baskari woman, leaping out of the brush and waving hello.

The weaver's heart stopped. First of all, the strange lady was being too bold. It wasn't safe for her to call attention to herself. Secondly, she would probably think that Izotz's concubine was spying and inviting the soldiers into the territory. And finally, both of them were sitting ducks for the men approaching. Jenny continued to bound forward, nearly unseating her rider, but Renna dug her heels in and finally managed to pull the animal to a stop just before she collided with the warrior's mounts. She bit her lip and blinked at the three men in front of her, then forced herself to lift her head and speak in a voice that trembled. "You come too close. Please, sirs, go away."

His two scouting companions had not even had the chance to dismount before Roger realized something was amiss. He had noticed Mars’s nostrils flair as the steed let out a husky snort of irritation. Knowing full well what that meant, his hand went immediately to the spiked mace hanging from his saddle. “Trouble,” he stated sharply to the two other men. Without even a second of hesitation, the two knights had pulled out their short swords and reigned in their snorting chargers to stand at his sides.

This reaction was not a moment too soon; as two women suddenly appeared out of the foliage. One, a dark barbarian woman, jumped into view with a cheery shout of “Hello!” The second, a very pretty Thiasan woman in barbarian garb, suddenly materialized out from the trees on an overly excited Thiasan horse. She gazed at them nervously from the back of her prancing mount. Obviously having trouble controlling the beast, she finally was able to speak, and when she did so, her voice was soft and frightened. "You come too close. Please, sirs, go away," she said.

Roger kept his jaw clenched as he surveyed the situation. “The hell is going on? I have never had this happen to me on a scouting mission before. How interesting….shit, it is most likely a trap.” Ignoring the woman he turned to one of his companions. “Circle the area, see if they are just a diversion.” After he had said this he turned to the other man. “Watch her,” he said, motioning to the barbarian. The knight responded by raising his sword a tad, eyeing the woman and seeming intent on spurring his steed forward at a moments notice.

He stepped spryly off of Mars’s back, no easy feat in partial armor. The tie on his mace was looped at his hip, and he made no other indication of aggression. “Quiet there lovely….” he said soothingly, his eyes on Jenny. His pace matched his warm, gentle tone as he moved forward toward the woman on horseback. “Shhhh shhhhh,” he whispered as he stepped in front of the horse with a raised palm.

“Quiet, lovely. Quiet,” he crooned and let his hand slide softly along Jenny’s nose. His Other hand snaked around the horses chin to caress her flank reassuringly. The horse responded immediately to his expert touch, and its excited prancing turned swiftly to a calm docility. He hummed for a moment longer and gently petted the woman’s horse.

“Madame, I cannot fully express my surprise at seeing you here so far in the territory of those hostile to our race, and in a garb that would depict you as one of them….if not for the obvious physical differences.” His gaze had not left the horse as he spoke, his tone still soft and lyrical. “I would be very much obliged if you would fill me in on your current plight, and cryptic statements.”

He had not stopped soothing the excited beast this whole time, but after he had spoken these words he looked up toward her face. He met her stare with the unwavering, direct gaze of someone used to command. It was not an unfriendly look, but a look that belied the warm, gentle tone he had used for the benefit of the jumpy creature.

Thus far he had not responded to the pleasant greetings directed toward him by the barbarian woman. The only recognition of her presence he had made had been to command the other knight to watch her. That knight continued to do so. His charger pranced slightly as he held it back; ready to be spurred forward in a deadly charge. That, of course, would only be necessary if she were to make any sudden movements.

The woman's hands tightened in her horse's mane. Unlike Jenny, Renna did not seem to be reassured by the man's gentle whispers. Here was a knight in shining armor-but Aiden's reaction to her shame had forever disillusioned her from the fairy-tale ending. Worse, the armor wasn't shining. Living with a warrior had taught her that the slightly rusty and tarnished metal was the sign of someone who knew what he was doing, and did it on an active basis.

Renna closed her eyes at the address 'Madame', steeling herself against the effect of manners with the knowledge that directly after the polite address would come a question. The question was always the same, but even after months of repetition confessing her private humiliation never became any easier.

She was right. The question came, and Renna opened her eyes to look down at a face that was as sternly commanding as they came. The girl was silent for a moment. She did not want to answer the question. Her gaze drifted over to the Baskari woman, only to see her being guarded by an armed man while the other drifted even closer to the Zerui territory. Fear struck. Renna blanched and stared straight ahead, driven to confess out of fright but not deigning to look at his face as he learned. She did not want to see Aiden's shock and horror ever again.

"I was taken by the son of a chief at the beginning of the summer. It is sometimes the practice between the tribes-to take a woman as a prize of war. She then becomes a concubine." It was somehow easier to speak about it blandly, in third-person terms than in solid 'he, I, me'. "There is only one Thiasan woman taken; and no more will be. They know now that our people don't understand being made a wife to a stranger, and they know that a white maiden may be nearly twenty but still innocent of the way men and women come together. They understand that such a situation is dishonorable. There's no need for Thiasan women to fear. No dark man will touch them."

The dull tone of her voice suddenly sharpened, and she finally swung her head to look back at the waiting knight. "I'm in no plight. They are good to me. My husband has grown to love me, and I him. The Warlord has given me a name and promised me his protection should Emaita die. There's no plight."

She offered a shaking smile. "And I wasn't being cryptic. You're in their land. If you come too close, there will be a fight and someone will get hurt, or die. There's been enough of that. Also, while the Baskari are a good people, not all of them love me-a few would think that I had invited you here. Your presence places me in mortal danger."

The girl looked over to Nahia again, then shifted uneasily in the saddle. Her face immediately became distressed, and she gave the knight a pleading look. "In Christ's name, have mercy. She's done nothing to you."

He watched her as she glanced about nervously from the back of her horse, and then with a weary look of acceptance, but with avoidance to his gaze, a torrent of words flew quickly from her lips. "I was taken by the son of a chief, etc….” Her voice grew in boldness as she spoke. "There is only one Thiasan woman taken; and no more will be. They know now that, etc…” Her tone took on a sharper lilt as she grew in boldness. "I'm in no plight. They are good to me. My husband, etc…..” She then smiled shakily, "and I wasn't being cryptic. You're in their land, etc…” To complete her rant, her voice took on a pleading nature. This took place as she looked over toward the barbarian woman who had not yet ventured to move, "In Christ's name, have mercy. She's done nothing to you."

Part way through her recanting, and then lecture, he had returned his gaze to Jenny. His smile turned warm as he absently petted the horse’s nose. He allowed no emotional reaction toward her explanation to expose itself on his face. Instead, he allowed his attention to be grasped by the horse, as he soaked in the rider’s words. Once she had finished pleading for the other woman; he turned his attention up toward her again.

He said nothing for a while. His face gazing up at her with a mixture of emotions.“I have a sister,” he finally said softly. The look on his face now showed only a calm respect. “One that I have spent many an eve fearful and uneasy over; wondering when the day would come that she would be spirited away by some barbarian monst-warrior (he caught himself before the word monster was uttered), and I would be called to hunt down her captors….only to find her dead and ravaged body left rotting in some corps of trees.” His eyes had taken on a somewhat unfocused look as he recanted his nightmare.

His eyes slid back into focus and he looked her directly into the face once again. Obvious sadness mixed with respect displayed on his face. “Madame, I am saddened you were the one who has had to make the sacrifice necessary to show such truth to the barbarians, but I will never cease to maintain the highest of regards to you for your gift to the other woman of our race. Other woman, who, as I have seen, lack both your wisdom, and enlightenment.”

His words were uttered so softly and personally. So much so, in fact, that neither of the other two people in earshot was able to make out more than a mumble. “The war will continue regardless of my words, but this I can assure you. No report of any barbarian sightings in this area will reach the ears of my superiors.” He suddenly turned toward the other woman and spoke in a far louder and commanding voice. “You and yours are lucky this day. If not for this concubine’s bravery and loyalty to a people not her own; I would tomorrow be returning with a detachment of knights. Men with no lesser purpose than nullifying your presence in this land for eternity, but because of her, I will see to it this area is left alone and un-scouted for as long as it is within my power to do so. See to it your clan is made aware of your fortitude by her hands.”

The third knight who had been scouting around them returned as the knight walked swiftly back toward his warhorse. “The area seems vacant Sir Newbury,” the knight said clearly. With a nod he acknowledged the report. He motioned to the second knight to stand down in his vigilance toward the barbarian woman. “Gentlemen see to it we are not followed. I will meet you at the edge of the clearing.” They both saluted and urged their chargers in the direction they had come. The knight who had spoken to her, on the other hand, had reached his horse, but turned to face her once again.

“Madame, while it is obvious I can do nothing for you at the moment beyond what I have already promised. I have one last gift I wish to give.” As he spoke these words he drew his sword. Drawing it up against his palm he sliced evenly into the skin; blood trickled down the blade and onto the forest floor. He then gripped the blade and held it forward as he continued to speak. No shred of recognition to the wound even hinted upon his face. “I, Sir Roger Newbury, will give or grant freely the aid of myself and mine to you and yours if such a need is to arise in the extension of our lifetimes.” A few trickles of blood pattered onto the forest floor from the held blade. “I swear this by my honor, and I swear this by my sword.” His tone was firm and heartfelt as he spoke. “Madame, I have no greater gift I can give,” he said as he pulled out a cloth and wiped down his blade. After doing so he sheathed the weapon, and used it to wrap his palm. “If you or your husband, children or friends, find themselves in need of help, seek me out and help is what will be found.”

Turning, he mounted his steed with trained ease. From his perch above the powerful warhorse he looked at her once again. “I shall not ask your name, though it burns on my mind to do so. For if I had it, I would be too sorely tempted to seek out your kin, and in turn join them in the bloody battles that would be waged for your return. I realize this cannot be, and doing so would serve only to remove what work you have done on our behalf to your husband and clan. May God guard you well M’lady, and bless your life with safety and joy.”

With these parting words he shifted his positioning in the saddle and the heavy mount swung about as if commanded. Man and steed trotted away; soon disappearing in the forest of trees.

Nahia paused when she saw the Thiasan woman break through, barely on her horse. What was Izotz’s woman doing away from the main camp? From everything that Indar had said, Izotz kept his woman closer then anything. She had always been so quiet, too, and look at her now, speaking to the soldiers. But maybe she was more accustomed to speaking with men like this then she was to the warriors of the tribe.

Either way, Nahia was not terribly impressed when one of the men turned towards her, sword pointed at her. Maybe if she had been timid and shy, like her sisters, she would have been frightened.

She hadn’t wandered the border for four years without learning anything.

He wasn’t terrible looking, this soldier. Wealthier then most of the soldiers she had encountered, but she could be wrong. Nahia’s encounters with Thiasans were quite limited—she only saw the common soldier on foot on the borders, and rarely, a woman who had come to entertain said soldiers. If the situation was a little different, Nahia may have tried something, but this man was under the control of the man who kept on talking. He would have no fun with her.

Nahia kept her eyes on the man, slowly raising her hands above her head with a smile. “No harm,” she said cheerfully. “Beautiful horse.” Just because flirting was an impossibility didn’t mean that practicing her Scalian was.

Nahia tried to listen to Renna and the man’s conversation, but they were speaking too quickly for her too understand. Words and phrases stuck out in her mind, some of which she understood, but most of their talk flew over Nahia’s head. She sighed. Even if she asked, they wouldn’t slow down enough to where she could at least pretend to understand what was going on. Or that she could interject with something—her arms were getting sore being up in the air for so long.

Her arms’ relief came when the leader of the Thiasans turned to her and began speaking. She rolled her eyes halfway through his speech—she knew a good deal of Scalian for a Zerui woman who should have never seen a Thiasan before the attack some time ago, but really, she had little experience with great long dialogues this man was so fond of.

Nahia decided she didn’t like him particularly well. “Yes yes, I know, buh-bye,” she said, waving him off when he finally finished speaking. Men like him were no fun, and therefore, no good for her. So serious! What fun was that?

Renna's tangling emotions were finally released by Nahia's farewell. She'd been close to tears a moment earlier; Sir Newbury had left her with such a sense of utter relief that it was overwhelming. But Nahia-! She couldn't help it. The weaver broke out in laughter. Renna quickly muffled the sound with her hand but there was no way of stopping her happy peals, and when she finally turned to look at the Baskari woman her shoulders were still shaking. Of course Nahia wouldn't have understood Roger's monologue; and there was no way Renna was going to translate something so embarrassing. No one but Izotz would believe her anyway. On the other hand, in the off chance that this woman had actually understood the exchange-well, Renna had little hope that the message would be passed on anyway. But the way she'd said it!

The weaver smiled, and shook her head at Nahia. "What? You like the way white men look, to get so close? That's new. I thought the Zerui didn't like fishbelly people."

It felt good to tease; even good to be speaking Baskari. She'd been so certain that he was going to just take her, force her home like Aiden had tried to. She'd been certain that...well, things would happen completely differently then they did. The remnants of her fear had left her weak, and shaking in the saddle-and despite Nahia's moment of relief, the tears came anyway. Renna wiped at her eyes and drew in several slow breaths, but whispered a prayer of gratitude to the strange knight that had offered her both safety and comfort. Roger Newbury. She'd keep the name in her daily prayers, and vowed silently to someday repay the magnitude of the favor he'd granted. A knight, at her very command. It was indeed the greatest gift he could offer, aside from the deliverance of Izotz and the baby she hoped would come.

Renna realized that her sudden tears were doing nothing for the mood of the situation, so she sucked them back as quickly as she knew how. There would be time for tears later. Instead, she gave Nahia a shaky but rather admiring smile. "I don't know you yet. What's your name, lehoi?"