Izotz woke up with a start, just before Eguzki raised his face to illuminate His people. The light was gray and the air cold, and he realized his captive had taken most of the furs, but what really woke him was the sharp pain in his hand. Unknowing, he had clenched his fingers over the blade of his knife in his sleep, and now bled from a shallow slice across his palm. His body was sore, too, and stiffening, but he noticed the sharp pain of the fresh wound first and foremost, because it had come from his nightmare--he had spilt blood to Eguzki, and Eguzki had demanded more, and more, and he couldn't stop bleeding...

But... what had that been? Nothing, only the ghost of thoughts that had passed through his mind during the day. Not the work of witches, which didn't exist anyway... Not the work of the false Ekaini spirits. Only his own thoughts.

He got up, glad to see that his captive hadn't run away in the night (she wouldn't have gotten far), and carefully wrapped his hand in a band of cloth. Trusting that his captive wouldn't wake up, he carefully and quietly carried the small stone basin of water outside, then over to the nearby stream. He dumped out the old contents, and let the bloody water sink into the riverbank, to nourish the growing things, then filled it up again carefully and set it aside. Then he knelt, because the sun was rising, and offered a quiet prayer to Eguzki.

As he did so, he unbound his wounded hand, and let some of his blood, too, sink into the earth.

Eguzki, you who are One, you who are All, guide me... help me to make my father proud and make this interloper one of us, so that we may one day make all of the interlopers part of our Tribe, and all of the Ekaini part of our Tribe, to glorify Your land.

He sat for a long moment, watching the sun rise, then washed out his cut and rebandaged his hand before carrying the basin back inside. On his way, he stopped at Hibai's tent, and asked his mother for a woman's tunic and trousers, which she helpfully slung over his arm.

Thus he came back to his own tent carrying basin and clothing for his interloper murroi-emazte.* He set these things down, and moved to the bedroll, where she seemed to be still asleep. Izotz touched her shoulder. "Renna?"



*concubine

Renna flinched as if she'd been struck, cringing away from the touch and waking in a rush of terror. The girl whirled and stared up at him, then scooted back until her back was pressed against the wall of the tent. She drew her knees to her chest, looking at him from behind a few stray curls before she realized where she was and lowered her eyes.

"...Good morning."

The words cost her quite an effort to say. He had shamed her.

She could feel the tears coming again, but all at once she remembered that she'd dreamed. Her father had been there, and he'd smiled and taken her in his arms and kissed her hair. You can always come home, he'd said. No matter what happens you can always come home.

The feeling of being loved that had been there during the night was quick to return, settling into her heart with a warmth that let her function almost normally. She'd been given advice as she slept--from her father's lips but undoubtedly from God's perspective. She was loved at home, but was being given a chance to be loved here. God wanted her to earn that here, even as a slave-for what purpose, she didn't know. It could be for something as simple as her happiness, or as grand as bringing this man and his people to Christianity. All she knew was that she felt she should try, and so she would.

Renna straightened her filthy shift carefully and stood, walking foward to put her arms around his neck. Her embrace was hesitant, but after a moment she pressed a kiss to his cheek. She stepped away swiftly after that; after all there was a fine balance between trying to love someone and lying completely. "I hope you slept well. Izotz."

His name felt strange on his tongue, and she found that she couldn't look at him any longer. "....I'm thirsty."

Izotz was very puzzled. He could understand her crying, and flinching way from him, but he couldn't understand it when she leaned up to kiss him. He stood stiffly, then put his arms around her for a moment.

"Ah, good morning to you too." He stepped back when she did. "You can find water at the stream, it's just out there. Here." He found one of the clay jugs they used to carry drinking water back to their tents, though he was generally too lazy to do so. "And I have cups." They were sitting by the fire.

He eyed her--she still looked disheveled, and she was unclean from their activities last night. "You can wash there, too, it's better than the... basin... and I bring you clothes." He showed them to her. "Much better than the ones you have. You wear them like I wear mine, with a string around the middle." He tried to remember the word for 'belt' in Scalian, and couldn't. "I can take you to the stream for washing." He wasn't sure he trusted her to go herself.

This late in the season, no one really wore shoes, but he recalled that her feet had been soft. So he rummaged among his belongings and found a pair of small moccasins his cousin had left in his tent.

"Here, take these also, and come with me."

She stiffened slightly to feel his arms slip around her, but forced herself to breathe through her mouth until it was over. It was a good thing he'd returned the embrace. She just had to learn to forgive him.

Renna listened to him in silence, canting her head slightly to the side. She did not smile. What exactly was wrong with the way she dressed? The clothes he was offering were completely indecent. The material was thin, and it would show the shape of her legs and every curve of her breast. But she accepted the clothes without comment and lifted a jar in her arms, slipping his moccasins onto her feet. "Please let me keep my dress. Even if I may not wear it, I would like to have it with me." To hold late at night, so she wouldn't feel alone and terrified each time he took her.

The young woman stepped out of his tent and drew a breath at the sight of the sky, colored pink and gold with morning. It was beautiful, despite everything. Renna kept her head craned back until she heard Izotz step outside behind her. She moved to the side and let him take the lead, following him through the field of tents and tangling smoke until they reached the stream. The moment she saw the water, however, she set the jar down and ripped off her shift, plunging into the chill flow to scrub herself. She'd never felt so filthy in her entire life, and it would take more than soap and water to rid herself of that. Still, it was a start. Izotz could see that she was washing herself almost violently in an attempt to destroy any evidence of their union. What he couldn't know was that the water's chill was helping to soothe the soreness that was still hindering her movements, and that she was in no rush to leave it.

At last even she had to admit that she was finished, and she left the water to stand at his side. Renna dried herself with the underskirts she'd brought out with her, and then slipped into the clothing he'd offered. It felt strange.

She dipped his jar into the stream and drank gratefully from it, too thirsty to bother pouring it out into cups. Renna drank loud and long, then refilled what water she'd lost and looked back at him, her hair shining with the water droplets threaded along the strands. "I'm ready."

Renna followed him back as silently as she had earlier, slipping into the tent to sit back on the furs. The girl watched him with curious green eyes for a moment, uncertain what to do next...then finally settled on asking a question. "So. I am a [/I]murroi-emazte. How do you say 'husband?'"

Izotz watched her bathe, surprised at how harshly she scrubbed herself. Her body glowed pink in the early-morning sun, which intrigued him. She was smaller than he had thought beneath all of her clothing, and last night he hadn't really gotten to see her, so he watched with interest. Some of it was sexual, but some was purely the curiosity brought on by the new. He'd never seen a naked interloper woman before. He was the first in the tribe to take one as a concubine.

Back in his tent, he took out some flat bread and mare's milk cheese, and started to eat.

"Here men eat first," he said, when it looked as though she would take some of the food. "When we finish, you eat... and you may call me emaita. It means 'husband.' If you speak to my mother, she can teach you Baska--our language--and how to cook and make ogi* and gazta."** He held up each item of food as he said the name. "And yoghurt, from our horses. But I have a question too..."

He finished eating and wiped his mouth carefully with one hand. "Your name, Renna, does it have a meaning? 'Izotz' means 'ice.'"

*the flat bread baked by the Baskar usually on stones or clay ovens
*cheese

Renna's hands fluttered back into her lap when he denied her food, and she bit down on her lip and fixed her gaze on his face instead. His name meant 'ice'. After thinking about it she decided it was oddly appropriate and inappropriate for him, all at once. He wasn't cold but he was...stone. That would have been a better name. A mountain that could grow warm or chill depending on what the conditions were around him.

"My name?....Yes, sort of. My parents made the name, by changing some names that already exist. The way they intended Renna means 'peace' and 'song'. "

Her hands clenched in her lap and she kneaded at the fabric of her tunic. It hurt to think about John and Marta, and her brothers and sisters. It hurt to think that they hadn't been able to save her, and to think that she would never see them again.

"Emaita." Her voice took on a different tone now, hesitant and hurt instead of wary. "Why? Do you hate me, to do this to me?"

She didn't think he understood. "I don't know if it's the same here, but...to my tribe, this fate is...worse than death. I guess what I ask, really-" How to phrase this? "Do you see me as human?"

"Ah, in our language you would be Gentzane--that's a woman's name in Baska that means 'peace,'" Izotz said, aware that the name was highly ironic, considering the circumstances. But it did make sense... she seemed to have a peaceful nature, or at least her parents held peace to be a value. Izotz didn't. It wasn't how Hibai had raised him, and it wasn't what he believed.

"Do you see me as human?"

Izotz looked at her blankly.

"Of course I see you as human. You're almost a woman of the Zerui now. To us, being taken is... it is shameful, but only as a... lowering of rank. Not as worse than death. But you didn't kill yourself," he pointed out, watching her. Recalling that, he slid the bread and cheese across to her, motioning for her to eat. "If a Zerui woman were raped, she would kill herself. Not if she were taken, but being raped and left behind, yes, many would..."

He looked away, and poured himself more water. Soon he'd go to practice archery and wrestling with the rest of the tribe's warriors, and send Renna to his mother, so she could teach her how to cook properly and speak Baska. Maybe the little, soft interloper girl could even learn to hunt, though he had heard their women didn't.

"But you didn't," he said at last, looking back toward her. "Why?"

His concubine nibbled at her food, only able to stomach a few bites before she set it aside. Renna listened to his explanation, her expression not changing...but then he asked, and her face softened. Why hadn't she killed herself? The girl rubbed her hands together as she considered how to respond, and then settled on what words she thought were right.

"Because it is weak."

The green eyes met his steadily for the first time, and she continued serenely.

"God...or...Eguzki...has given us many gifts. Yes? I think on this we agree. One of the gifts given is that of life. Without....Eguzki...we are nothing. If something bad happens to us, it's...ungrateful, and cowardly to throw his gift of life away. Life is a test. Bad things will happen; but if we can endure them then we will die and live forever like..." She searched for a word that would make sense to him. Angels probably wasn't it. "Heroes."

Renna stroked a lock of hair off her cheek. "There are two more reasons. One, I have hope-that someday...this will be well, for both of us. The other is more practical. There wasn't a way for me to do it."

Izotz blinked. He wasn't going to mention that there were ways, because when it came to it, he didn't want her to kill herself. It was bad luck. On the other hand, he wasn't entirely sure he understood what she was talking about living forever... bravery and honor, though, he could understand.

"That is how we see loss in battle... a great shame," Izotz said, nodding a little. "We lost many men in the wars, because we believe that surrender is worse than death. But death, you know, is sacred to Eguzki too if it happens in the right way. Our blood feeds Him. But for you to kill yourself because you are now Zerui would be... blasphemy. So it is good that you didn't." He looked away, because this conversation was giving him a headache. These issues were far too confusing for him.

Tentatively, he reached out to touch her arm, her skin soft against his calloused palm. "Eguzki has shown you His light. You see that being one of the Zerui will be good, and one day, everyone on da'Eguzki will be part of our Tribe." The mad light in his eyes wasn't only his own. It was an expression he had partly borrowed from Hibai, but he hardly knew where it had come from an longer.

She drew her arm back. "....However you see it, you raped me."

Her voice didn't shift in pitch or tone, but the hopeful light in her eyes had disappeared. "I want to be friends with you. I don't want to learn to be so cruel. I'll be your wife, Emaita; but I won't.." She took a deep breath. "I won't accept your god. "

The girl looked at him with the first spark of defiance in her eyes, her jaw setting into a hard line. "I worship a god that loves me, and everyone else, and that's the one thing I will not change to please you. Murder is wrong. Rape is wrong. Hurting other people is wrong. It doesn't make you braver or stronger to control someone weaker than you. It's cowardly."

Renna did not flinch now; it was apparent that even if he struck her she had a stance on this she wasn't backing away from. "We disagree with each other about that, but even a whore has the right to believe as she will. And I don't believe in blood or death."

Izotz felt anger seize him like freezing water.

"You may not believe in blood and death, but they believe in you," he said at last, his voice controlled. He stood up, brushing off his tunic, and looked coldly down at her. "And if strength is not measured against someone weaker, then it is not strength, it is trickery." He shrugged. "As for Eguzki's love, it, like every kind of love there is... is violent. And bloody. And full of pain. You are not a true Zerui, so I can let go that you are ignorant for now. Now. Go to speak with my mother, I can show you her tent. I have many tasks to do."

He snorted, the only real sign of his anger. Renna hadn't eaten very much, but then, he heard the women of the interlopers hardly needed food to survive, and did no work at all. That was one of the stories he didn't actually believe.

"Come." He held out a hand to help her to her feet.

Renna didn't accept his hand, but simply pushed herself to her feet and brushed past him to duck out of the flap of the tent. He was calling her ignorant. The very thought of it made her whiter than she already was, and she folded her arms across her torso. This....heathen was trying to convert her! -After- he'd raped her, which was even more unbelievable. She'd been prepared for savage behavior, but this was ridiculous. Surely even a barbarian would be able to see that? It had never crossed her mind that Izotz might be stupid until this very moment, and just then it was making a fairly compelling argument. Nothing else she could think of made sense.

"...Make me smile for joy, and I'll consider listening to you." Her answer was short. "I have no interest in trusting you right now, Emaita. I'm sorry about that. Where is your mother's tent?"

Izotz nodded curtly and walked outside. The tents were, of course, arranged in straight lines, all facing east, so they could pay homage to Eguzki. His mother's was beside his father's in the row ahead of his, and he led her to it.

"Here. Ama!" he called, summoning his mother in Baska. "Take care of my murroi-emazte. Teach her to cook and teach her a few Baska words and for the love of Eguzki try to get her to stop blaspheming, she's making me insane." He hugged his mother briefly, then took a step back. "I'm off," he said in Scalian, and stalked away.

Arnas and Eskuin were at the archery range, practicing fast shots--not for accuracy, but for speed.

"So was her hair that color all over?"

Izotz gave him a withering look, and aimed a shot just past Eskuin's ear.

"As it happens, yes," he said coolly. He nocked another arrow and aimed carefully at the target. The bolt landed near the middle of the figure drawn onto the leather. "And she's white all over, too. Well, and pinkish."

Arnas elbowed him, Eskuin laughed, and that was the end of that.

But his father's reaction to an unrepentant heathen would be somewhat worse, if he ever found out. Izotz had sent her to his mother in a fit of anger, and now realized how stupid that had been. She would tell his father about Renna's false god-worshipping, and things would go very hard with Renna. And with Izotz, for taking her. Never mind that it didn't make sense; Izotz knew in his gut what Hibai would do...

It was almost sunset by the time he got back to his mother's tent, now a dark shape illuminated against Eguzki's orange glow. Hibai was not in the tent, he saw with great relief; he was probably eating with another of his three wives. "Hello, Ama, Renna."

"Aizu." Renna's reply was soft, and she kept her gaze on the bread she was making. The hours had helped to soften her anger, but had done nothing to ease her weariness or hurt. She hadn't particularly enjoyed herself today, nor had she found a smile, but Ama's presence was infinitely preferable to her new husband's. Ama wasn't capable of hurting her in the same way. Izotz's captive tried a sentence of awkward Baskar, a frown knitting her brow. "....Dinner ready soon."

Ama smiled at her son, although there was a slightly worried expression in her eyes. "Your woman learns quickly, but she doesn't listen well. You should speak with her before it goes too far."

The older woman gave her a slightly mistrusting look, which Renna ignored. But then she sighed and shook her head. "I'd rather you found a wife, Izotz. I don't like the thought of you and an interloper murroi-emazte. What will she teach your children?"

"Nothing, mother," Izotz said curtly. "She won't teach them anything, even if we have children. For Eguzki's sake I just took her yesterday, and I'm only 18. I'll take a wife soon. It doesn't help that Aita* doesn't think anyone from another tribe is good enough for me."

He sat down beside Renna, one hand moving idly through her hair. It was a gesture of possession and--defiance? Maybe it was a sort of defiance.

"I'll marry when I'm ready."

There was a deep buried reason why he didn't want to marry. He didn't want one more person to control him--one more person with a claim on him. He wanted someone he could control, just as he always tried to control his friends. Just as Hibai controlled him.

"That was very good," he said to Renna, in careful, slow Baska, then switched to Scalian. "Are you learning a lot? That looks like good bread."


*father

Renna stilled when he touched her hair, her hands freezing at their work. But she nodded slowly and went back to work, trying to ignore the feeling of her hand in his hair. She wished more than ever now that he'd let her alone the night before. He was a handsome and strong young man, and if he'd only been patient...she wouldn't be flinching like he meant to beat her every time he touched her. "Thank you. Emaita. I tried."

Amahur sighed at her son and shook her head, muttering to him. "She never smiles." But his mother relented with a soft sigh and looked at him affectionately, shaking her head. "But she has beautiful eyes. And she's obediant. And she's good with the little ones. I don't suppose it's her fault that she's a barbarian. You're smart, boy, maybe you can cure her of that."

Renna was only able to pick out the comment 'beautiful eyes,' since everyone who had come to stare at her had said the same thing, over and over and over. There was also another word she'd learned by heart, and that one was sorgin. The witch. Apparently her grass-colored eyes were taken as either being a miracle or a curse, and she would just have to pray that nothing too horrible happened any time soon.

Renna lifted her head to look at Izotz, her expression hollow. "Izotz? Must I sleep with you again tonight?"

Izotz had expected to deal with someone defiant, like one of their soldiers, or tricky, like one of their traders. He had not expected to encounter a soft, small, meek woman whose only conviction appeared to be some sort of delusion about living forever.

"No, you don't have to," Izotz said, looking away from his mother, who could probably hear them, though their voices were quiet. "I had to last night, because... that is how I make you my murroi-emazte. But now that you are, I don't need to do so. I would like it, and it is not as painful... and I would..."

Beneath the darkness of his skin, Izotz could feel his face glowing red. His mother was in the room! He turned his gaze back to the cooking bread, which lay on a stone next to the fire, slowly browning on top. What could Ama be thinking? He didn't want to dwell on it.

"You hated it," he said, very quietly. "I am sorry. Generally, women don't dislike it when I... but you are my murroi-emazte, so I respect your wish." He glanced at her. "Of course there is only so long this goes on."

"I hated it because I didn't know you." Renna, too, was very quiet. "Nor did you know me. I was nothing to you but a.." Oh, curse it. The tears were starting again. She quickly hid her face on her arm. "My custom is to save my body for the one man I'll love, and who will love me. It was supposed to be my husband's gift. And you took it like it meant nothing. Now I have nothing to give, and I'm not even a real wife."

She gave a broken and shuddering little sigh, wiping her face on her sleeve. "And it really hurt."

Renna couldn't look at him. "I don't want to. I'll sleep in your arms, and we can try kissing a-and...touching but...I don't want to. I can't. I still hurt."

She didn't care if his mother heard or not. Let her hear. Let her know what her son was. "I'd rather you had just kissed me and waited. I wouldn't have run away."

Izotz felt like a monster. His mind scrambled for a way to ease the raw wound she had brought up in his heart--a wound that wouldn't heal, because she was absolutely right, wasn't she? No. What about the men he had talked to, the older ones, who had seen their whole families killed by the Thiasans? Edur, who had only one leg and one eye, and refused to talk about what had happened when the Thiasans had tortured him for information because he could speak Scalian?

But Renna wasn't responsible, and now she was crying, and in front of his ama, too...

He put a hand on her back, more as a token response than an actual attempt to soothe her.

"I didn't know you wouldn't have run away," was all he could muster. And I wanted to prove myself to my father, whispered a sick and insidious part of his mind, but he pushed it back into the depths. "But I am sorry. I won't force you. We are not barbarians." He spat her people's word for them at her with all the venom of someone who knew he was wrong, then softened, his hand moving lightly over her back. "I am sorry," he said again, very stiffly. "The bread is burning. Let me." There, that'll smooth things over, he thought sourly. He moved away from her to pull flip the bread off the hot rock and onto the nearby bronze plate for serving.

It was a little too late for that. He'd already forced her. But Renna sniffled back her tears and stretched her hand out tentatively to touch the back of his hand, then twined her fingers into his. "Thank you, Emaita."

She helped him dish out her bread, forcing herself to calm down. Strong and different as he was, she had to remind herself that he was also young, and he did seem to genuinely regret what had happened. It wasn't his fault that he worshipped a strange god who told him to do bad things, and he seemed to have a good heart. It would take her a long while to forgive and completely forget what he'd done to her, but....

"I think you are a good husband. I just think things...happened too fast. I'll try to forget what happened yesterday, and we can begin again, yes? You're not a barbarian."

Renna looked up at him, her eyes wide and shining as a faint blush colored her cheeks. "You're a good husband."

That much was true. Why, if she'd gone to the village matchmaker she could have gotten paired with worse. A drunkard or a beater or someone old or ugly or obsessed with sex. All at once she felt fairly content and lowered her eyes shyly. "You really would like to make love to me?"

Ama hid a laugh as she turned and busied herself with the meal, quickly turning it into a cough that could be blamed on the smoke. From the looks of things, her son had bitten off more than he could chew.

Izotz was very puzzled at the sudden change. Women... he would never understand them. Maybe she was reacting to what little sympathy he'd shown her.

She took his hand, lacing their fingers together. Her palms weren't soft, as he had thought they might be, but hard from use, like the hands of a weaver. And her eyes had gone soft and shining, and her cheeks pink. He had time to think about all of this as they finished piling the bread on the plate.

He couldn't understand why she seemed suddenly happy with him, and it left an unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach. First she had made him feel awful, as vile as one of the interlopers, and now how was he supposed to enjoy her burgeoning... whatever it was? Still, he leaned across to kiss her, tilting her chin up so her eyes met his.

"Obviously I do," he said, drawing back. His eyes flickered toward his mother, who appeared to be trying not to laugh. "Were you not desirable among the interlopers?"

"...Not that I knew of."

Her cheeks flamed from his kiss and she pulled away, quickly stifling the smile that threatened to to shine out from the clouds. Renna fiddled nervously with the bread on the plates, not knowing what to say. "Yesterday was my first kiss."

The light in her face faded a little as she reminded herself, but she shook it off. There had been pleasure there, hidden far, far behind pain and fear. "I was desirable for my skills at the loom and the hearth and fertility....not for pleasure. But we aren't as open about it as you are. If someone had told me that I.....aroused him, he would have been punished for it if he wasn't my husband and I told my father. Sex is for the married."

The young woman studied him carefully, uncertainty showing. "Your touch did make me feel fire, Emaita. But there was so much fear I couldn't enjoy it. After we know each other....we can try again. I don't like sharing my secrets with a stranger. It's better to be close. Or is that not the same here?..Try my bread already."

"No, we almost always know our wives before, but not our murroi-emaztei."* Izotz shrugged uncomfortably. "I don't know what 'close' means. Not living together and working together and--" He looked aside. "Raise children together?"

"Try my bread already?"

He laughed out loud, his teeth showing white and sharp against the darkness of his skin. "You know--when you offer a man food, it means, to us--" He laughed again, at the appropriateness if nothing else. "--it means that later, you get sex. Of course, not always," he hastened to say, picking up a piece of bread and sniffing at it curiously. It smelled just like his mother's, a mixture of smoke and barleysugar. Well, there was only so much you could do with bread, really. "Chiefs and Warlords, you see, make the selection of which emazte--which wife to have by their food... like a signal, or a... not a signal, but similar."

By now the joke was long-dead, his words only serving to trample it into the ground, so he took a bite of bread and chewed thoughtfully. "It's good." He nodded. Better not to joke. Joking had never been his strength, anyway.

Then he winked.

*concubines

She blushed and looked hastily away, combing her curls off her neck. This felt so strange. A man was speaking to her about her body and her desirabilty, which wasn't something she'd ever heard before. And not just any man-a prince, dark and strong. She wasn't really sure how to react to this. So, she tried to joke back, shrugging her shoulders.
"This is one tradition you'll have to change. If my job is to cook for you every night, I won't last very long. "

Renna plopped down to sit across from him on the skins, watching him eat. After hours of fright, his sudden change had served to make her hungry-ravenous, even. But here she had to wait her turn, which she found she actually sort of hated. Still, she was the wife of a future chief. He had no others, yet...maybe she could make him learn to love her best. Aiden hadn't spared her a second glance, nor had anyone else. But there was a chance, here. A chance to be wanted, and even needed, and maybe...one day...she could be a real wife.

"By close I meant closeness of hearts." She folded her legs stiffly. "My older brother has a lover; they know everything about each other. Their fears and hopes and dreams...he knows what she thinks and how she feels. My parents are the same, almost-they're not lovers and never have been, but they know each other and trust each other. Closeness is friendship."

"Yes, I understood that meaning," Izotz said, watching her. It was strange that a young woman--not so very young, at that. It was harder to tell with interlopers, who all looked more or less the same, but he thought she was about his age. "I think that closeness is what you do, not what you feel." He touched his chest. "I am close to my friends because they would die for me, and I would die for them, and I know this because we've fought together. Hey, Ama!" He raised his voice and spoke in Baska, cutting off the flow of his conversation with Renna. But he wanted to eat. "Bring me some of that stew?" It looked like rabbit, probably one his mother had snared herself.

Ama poured him a bowl of the thin stew, and he nodded to her. What was that expression in her eyes? Not amusement, but something like it. He took another piece of bread and use it as a spoon. "This is very good. But as I was saying..." He realized he was speaking Baska, and switched hastily. "I was saying you-- these things--knowing what someone thinks and hopes is not the same..." He trailed off, trying to gather together his thoughts, to express what he hadn't thought words ought to express. "To know someone is not to love them. But I would not know."

He finished his stew quickly, more to keep his mouth occupied than anything else, and motioned for Renna to eat after he had set aside his own bowl.

Renna accepted the stew and bread gratefully, growing quiet as she ate. All this talk about love was making her think of Aiden and home, which only hurt. She could be happy here, but only if she managed to forget that she had a home and a family that loved her, waiting miles away and undoubtably worrying themselves sick. Memory would only bring misery.

She wolfed down her supper, not bothering about manners in the face of her hunger. It had been her original intention to pine away, but she was too young and had too great a love of life for that to really work. When she was finished she begged Ama for more, and dispatched that in just as much a hurry. Amahur's eyebrows raised but she made no comment and simply offered her some bread to finish it up, deciding that the young thing needed her strength if she was to work well as a woman and as a concubine.

Renna finally finished, a sheepish look on her face. But she couldn't help it. She'd been hungry. "...I wouldn't know either. But I think--It would still be nice....to know. Working together doesn't automatically make me like someone. Bodies are nothing without hearts." But she shrugged, and thought a moment before she tried a whisper. "Emaita, will you show me the horses?"

She certainly wasn't eating like an interloper woman now. At least she liked their food, and she was tidy enough.

Her question, when she'd finished, caught him by surprise. For one thing, he knew it had to be close to dark outside, and most of the horses would be sleeping. For another, the interlopers didn't--to his knowledge--care as much about their horses as the Baskar did. They couldn't even tell them apart, and many burned brands into their sides--a barbaric practice.

Still, outside, alone, in the dark, she'd trust him. He supposed it was no sillier than her trusting him inside, but, anyway, it was an... atmosphere sort of a thing. One of those romantic things. He might as well, really. What had he taken her for, after all? Companionship. His father's respect. Someone who wasn't part of this all. He left unexplored what 'this all' was and nodded to his murroi-emazte.

"Of course. Come with me. They stay in the field very close to the tents."

He stood with a faint groan--his body still ached a little from the pummeling that interloper guard had given him, and offered her a hand up. "Oh--see you later, Ama, thanks for the dinner," he added, flapping a hand at his mother. She smiled.

"Yes, thank you!"

Renna called over her shoulder, then turned and skipped out after Izotz, taking his hand in hers. She let him tow her out to the fields then apruptly pulled loose, giving a very long and low whistle. Out of the sleeping masses an ear perked up, and then a head, and the brown mare he'd stolen with the concubine shook her head and trotted over, butting Renna squarely in the chest. She laughed and embraced the creature, gently rubbing her nose and letting the mare's head rest on her chest. "Jenny!"

The girl carressed her family's horse, grateful to have someone there she knew was a true friend. Renna murmured into her ears and stroked her mane, smiling as Jenny's ears swung to and fro to catch her voice. She paused a moment to rub her neck, then reached to scratch her withers. "...At least they know she'll be taken care of. Your people seem to value horses over humans. Good girl."

"Oh... the mare I took." Izotz nodded at her. "She's yours too, now. A man's horses belong to him and to his wife and children. I can teach you better ways of riding, too."

He folded his arms across his chest. She was very affectionate with the animal. He wasn't, generally speaking; something about connection... it wasn't there. He could handle horses well while riding them, but on the ground they went about their business, which chiefly consisted of grazing, and he went about his. Maybe, he thought, it was a strange kind of respect he held for them.

This horse was a true brown, without the reddish coat of a chestnut (he could see that even in the dark) or the black mane and tale of a bay. A little smaller than most of the Zerui horses, unless you counted the ponies they bred in the south.

"She isn't bad stock." He watched the animal, aware that he was out of place in this soppy reunion, and a little disgruntled over it. He switched to watching the woman, which was certainly more pleasant. Even if the rapt expression on her face galled him. "You can ride her tomorrow, but it's getting dark now. We should..." The words hung on the air.

The silence that followed was one that Izotz surely was beginning to recognize as Renna's 'wow, I can't believe he said that; what do I say now?' sort of silence. The girl simply rubbed Jenny's muzzle and kissed the snip of white between her nostrils, losing herself in thought. He wanted to take her again.

That was vaguely irritating since he'd already said that she didn't have to. Renna had hoped that since she'd expressed her wish to be left alone, he would have left the subject alone. She thought she finally understood what Papa meant when he'd warned her that men only wanted one thing. She hadn't believed him then, because he and Thomas and the twins weren't like that at all. But in all honesty she hadn't encountered any other men her age at any kind of close range, and she was a little surprised at how eager he seemed for her body. The real question now, however, was: what should she do?

She could refuse him. A curt response made purposely oblivious might stop him from asking again, and he'd already said he wouldn't force her. She was frightened. She didn't want him to do that again.

On the other hand, she was stuck here-for perhaps the rest of her life. He was her husband, and as his wife she had a duty to please him. It would be different if he wasn't so obviously providing for her and caring for her like she was a wife, but he was. And she wanted to make him happy. She wanted him to love her and admire her and want her. She wanted to be brave. Renna rubbed Jenny's face quietly, then took a breath and turned her head to the side. "...We should bathe again; the fire made me dirty." The murroi-emazte hesitated a moment. "You may bathe me, if you'd like."

Izotz snorted rudely, and threw up his hands in a gesture of great frustration.

"I'm not asking for that." The language barrier seemed to be causing a problem. "That was an open... a sort of a comment that..." How could he explain to her all the little cultural niceties over which she rode roughshod? The tiny responses that weren't quite right? Even the way she moved as wrong. Zerui women moved differently, but he couldn't think how--maybe they just moved a little more. Maybe it was the huge skirts she was accustomed to wearing.

"I was only saying... not that I will say no to washing you.." Izotz was never tongue-tied, but he could always blame the language. "We can go to the river. I can bring soap this time." They made it from ash and animal fat and scented it with flowers. It was a little gray and lumpy, but it worked better than soaproot, and smelled better, too. He moved a little closer to her and touched her hair, which was a little matted with smoke. His fingers sought her bare nape, stroking along the softness of her neck.

Renna jumped when Izotz snorted, whirling to look at him in shock. She'd made him angry!

Disappointment rose harsh and bitter in her throat, and she swallowed and lowered her head. It wasn't her fault. He'd behaved the way he did, and so she'd assume him to continue in that behavior, no matter what situation arose. Anyone else would have done the same, wouldn't they? It only made sense. And earlier he'd said that he wanted...

Her thoughts trailed off as her new husband brushed her hair aside to stroke his fingers down her neck. The weaver took no pleasure in the touch, only aware that he was not happy with her. He was stroking her the way one might stroke a misbehaving dog. Renna lowered her head even more, further exposing her nape to him, and whispered very humbly to the darkness.

"I'm sorry, Emaita. I'm trying as hard as I can."

Damn her! If only she weren't so meek and obedient... and at the same time, so completely wrong... Izotz wasn't acting like himself around her. It was no fun to be completely in charge of someone who actually wanted to serve you. In fact, it was almost unbelievably frustrating.

"Just go wash yourself. I'm going to go to sleep." He turned around without bothering to indicate she should follow. She'd find her way back, or she wouldn't. He had the sinking feeling she was playing some sort of game with him, and it wasn't welcome. No normal person was so compliant, and he didn't trust this interloper for a minute. He didn't even want her; maybe he'd give her to Bero, he was always complaining... concubines could be rejected just like normal wives. He could do that, and...

... but what if it wasn't a trick? Still. More trouble than she was worth! He crossed his arms over his chest, his fingers in his armpits for warmth as the spring night slid into chill darkness, and stomped back to his tent.

She stared after him, bewilderment taking over her expression. Why was he so angry? He had no right to be angry! She was the one who ought to be furious. He'd humiliated her, and kidnapped her, and mocked her. But she'd thought that maybe, if she gave him a chance....and he was angry at her?

Renna's hands clenched slowly into fists as she watched him go, her arms trembling with the emotions she'd kept locked back for the past two days. The temptation was overwhelming to pick up a rock and fling it after him, but that was too meanspirited even for the white-hot rage coursing through her slight frame. If he wouldn't want her, then there was absolutely no reason for her to keep trying to please him. It would have been best if she could have married the man who'd ruined her, but if that was an impossibility, well, there were other options.

"...All right, then."

She spoke to the night, her tone unusually low and sharp. Without a word Renna twisted and boosted herself onto Jenny's back, the task made much easier by wearing leggings. She tightened her legs around the animal and kicked her forward, leaning against her neck to save her back. The mare was small, and undoubtably tired, but she could fly when she wanted to. Renna only hoped that she would want to. "Hai!"

Slender hands wove into Jenny's mane with the whispered prayer that she wouldn't fall off, and Renna was away like an arrow from the bow.

"Eguzki take it!"

He heard the thunder of hooves behind him, and Izotz turned sharply. Trying to run away? The idiot interloper wouldn't make it two miles in this darkness, and they were hours from the border. Between that and the uncertain terrain... it was all very well for them, they knew the path, but she wouldn't. Muttering curses under his breath, Izotz jogged quickly back to the horse field, and let out a piercing whistle, which could summon any of his father's horses to him at once.

The quickest to arrive was Gorri, a restive chestnut colt. He tended to buck, but Izotz didn't care about that right now. He swung aboard and paused for a moment, listening hard for the fading sound of hooves. There--at least she was going in the right general direction, due north. He tapped Gorri's sides with his knees and leaned forward (that was all it took, though the interlopers seemed to make a great show of kicking and yanking at their mounts), and the young horse took off at a gallop.

"Idiot alab-Zakur!*" In truth, it was a courageous, if incredibly stupid act.

There was one good thing about Gorri--he was one of the fastest horses they had. He could hear the drumming of Jenny's hooves quite clearly now, mingling with the rhythm of Gorri's gallop. And where she was heading there were sinkholes. They never went due north, and for this very reason--the ground was soggy so near the dwindling branch of Eguzki's vein that fed the stream near their camp. He could see almost nothing in the darkness, but they crested a hill, and he made out a black silhouette ahead. "Stop! It's dangerous!"


*'daughter of a dog,' connoting 'coward' or 'dishonorable'

Renna bit hard on her lip at the sound of Izotz's voice shouting behind her, and shook her head. It struck her all at once how stupid her decision was. She was riding at a full gallop in the dead of night, with only her horse's nose and eyes to guide her past the obstacles she knew were out there. She didn't know the way home, and she didn't really know how to ride without a saddle or bridle to help her.

On the other hand, how could she just rein back and obey him when she had absolutely no reason to trust him? He could be shouting that just to make her stop. She'd feel like an idiot if she let herself go back into slavery for the sake of a lie.

On the other hand, was it really worth her life, and the life of her horse?

Tears of frustration pricked at her eyelashes. Izotz didn't want her for any purpose but to control her, and by doing this and giving in she would go back to that-with absolutely no hope for earning his trust.

The murroi-emazte bit back a defiant scream, not wanting to startle poor Jenny into going wild. But she tightened her hands in the mare's mane, and then remembered something very crucial.

A horse's mane had no nerve endings.

Panic started to rise. Without being able to pull back, how was she going to get the mare to stop?! Instead Renna moved her leg, steering her to the left in an attempt to double back to the camp, or at least to the hill. She'd slow down at the incline-she hoped.

"I can't!"

Izotz growled in exasperation and leaned down, his body against Gorri's neck, his legs tight around his barrel, urging him to the crest of the hill. She seemed to have turned a little, and the horse was moving diagonally up the incline... he pulled Gorri back from his flat-out gallop by sitting back, letting the shift in weight signal his intention, then stopped him dead in the path of Renna's horse. Horses tended to do what those around them were doing, and Jenny slowed from her mad dash... to a canter... to a trot, and Izotz leaned over, putting one hand on her head and rubbing up and down her nose, trying to soothe the mare as he had earlier tried to calm her rider.

"You have proven that interlopers are very stupid," he told Renna quietly, not looking at her. Sideways, he could see the gleam of her light eyes through the darkness. "Not so far ahead are... wet places, with holes... you fall down one of them and your horse dies, and probably you die. You must come back."

In many ways, he would treat her as a wife, but even wives would be punished for running away--even beaten. He wouldn't do that, but he could, and would, insist she return. His tone brooked no argument, and when he looked up at her, his expression was absolutely calm--and as unyielding as a stone carving. She could probably not read the expression in his eyes, as they were deeply shadowed by the moon's faint light.

Of course.

Renna's hands gleamed small and white in Jenny's dark mane, clenched tightly in the strands of coarse hair. Of course she must come back; she must do everything he said. And yet she'd done that, perfectly in fact, and he was still angry at her. Her shoulders slumped, then all at once she jerked upright and sat straight and tall on her mare. The girl gave him a cold nod, accepting his insult without comment, and nudged Jenny into a walk up the hill. She rode in utter silence for a minute or two, fighting to keep herself calm. It was so irritating, these peaks and valleys in her emotions of the past few days. Terror, to hope, to terror again, to acceptance, to happiness, to anger, and back to fear. It was more exhausting than anything else she'd lived through, and she didn't know what to do any more. She was this man's wife, and he didn't even want her.

Despair fell heavy on her heart, and Renna sighed and closed her eyes for a moment. Out of nowhere she opened her mouth and sang, very softly pleading for some kind of blessing on her head.

Ave Maria
Gratia plena
Maria, gratia plena
Maria, gratia plena
Ave, ave dominus
Dominus tecum
Benedicta tu in mulieribus
Et benedictus
Et benedictus fructus ventris
Ventris tuae, Jesus.
Ave Maria

Her voice was high and sweet, ringing clear under the light of the stars.

Izotz cast her a sideways glance as she sang. Her voice rose along notes that were different from those the Zerui used, and, in his opinion, not all that pleasing to the ear. And the words in the song... though he could hardly make them out through the piercingly high notes of her melody... that wasn't Scalian. It was some other language.

"Please be quiet. You're going to startle the horses." All right, it wasn't the kindest thing he could have said... to soften his words, he looked toward her in the gloom. "That is, you will frighten the horses back at the camp. They wake up when they hear strange noises, and if the horses are restless the whole camp will awaken," he added, to qualify the remark.

Their horses were now moving side-by-side, and he was close enough to make out the pale glow of her face through the blackness. "What song is that? The words--it is not Scalian, right?"

"No. It's not Scalian."

She didn't feel like explaining more to him. She was angry and tired and it would only upset him more to hear that she was singing a hymn to the mother of her own God. "It's an old language, very old. We don't speak it any more."

Another silence, tense with frustration. And then her head whipped around and she looked him full in the face, staring him down. "Did it ever occur to you that your concubine was going to be a woman? Not just a body, for pleasure and food and warmth at night, but an actual woman? Izotz. It's never been my habit to lie, and I don't want to start now. So let me speak clearly. I want to make you happy, because if you're happy with me, I can learn to be happy with you. It's not difficult for me to learn love."

She guided Jenny to a careful stop. "But you won't let me have that. Everything I do for you, I do wrong. You dislike me. I may be an interloper and a woman and even stupid, but I value my freedom and my happiness as much as you. I promise. If you don't want me, let me go home. I won't lead anyone back here. I won't speak ill of your tribe. But there's a life I want to live, and meek as I am...I refuse to live it where I will be less than dirt in my husband's eyes. I utterly and completely refuse."