Sephtis

40. Seasons past.

Horiki died in the suns last hour. He is burned now, his ashes scattered by the wind into the dark of these peoples waking hours.

Eleutheros is sitting beside me at the funeral feast, and offers me a piece of roasted goat from his plate.

"You have not eaten this night, wolf-woman," he says gently.

I look away, I cannot bare to see his smile nor his eyes. It conquers me, and I do not wish to be conquered.

"I am not hungry."

"You have eaten little these past few days. You have been to busy looking after the wounded, but see? They are into their food like bees to a honey pot. For they are well now, thanks to you. Are you not proud that your skills have healed us? The village is grateful to you, Sephtis," he says.

I say nothing. I do not believe him.

Taaroko stands, and the people are silent. The priest looks sternly at me and I hang my head. Eleutheros' fingers sneak across my thigh and his hand enfolds mine. He squeezes softly, lending me his strength.

"Your remedies for our sick were true and good, cursed one," says Taaroko, his voice loud in the sudden silence. The fire crackles and somewhere a night-bird screeches. I look at the faces of those within the house and their eyes are empty and cold.

Taaroko continues, " We are thankful that you brought our pledge-son home, and stayed to help us."

Murmurs break out when he says pledge-son, and a man curses the wolves.

"However," Taaroko adds. "There is something we cannot over look. When you were exorcised, Sephtis, the wolf spirits were driven out of you. But the spirits returned, and you welcomed them with open arms, and an open heart. They sent you back to the forest, and when the pledge-son came looking for you he was savagely attacked. We fear that if you stay, you will bring the wolves here, for they will be drawn by the spirits within you, and we fear they will kill us all."

Eleutheros stands, his hand strong about mine, drawing me up beside him. He still wears a strip of cloth about his eye, and he cannot move freely for painful scars. But he stands tall, and proud, and I know why the village honours him.

"When you talk of evil spirits, you talk only of your own fears," Eleutheros says. "This woman was not driven to the wolves by spirits; she chose to go to them, for they are more trustworthy than we are."

There are scornful laughs, but he ignores them.

"I was not attacked by a wolf," Eleutheros continues. "The wolves did not even growl when I set foot in their kingdom or when I spoke to Sephtis. Only when I was angry with her, only when I shouted and shook her, did the king wolfs son challenge me. He could have killed me easily, for in the fight I lost my knife, but he only warned me against hurting her, and he let me go. And afterwards, when Sephtis came with me through the forest, that very same wolf came with us, guarding us, and he slept by me to keep me warm. It is a fools thing to speak of the wolves as savage. In truth, they have more restraint than warriors."

Mutterings and whispers of disbelief break out in around the great feast fire, and Merikh calls out: "Your voice is only one, pledge-son, against the uncountable voices of more past seasons than we can count. Always the wolf has been feared for its savagery, and it's killing hate. Every since they were cast from the moon as fallen warriors of old, this we know, have always known since bards first sung songs and told stories. Though you are a pledge-son, and the people love and honour you, I think the slave girl has you under her spell."

We have already been through this bewitch meant foolishness," says Eleutheros. "It was proved to be a lie, born of jealousy and hate. I am not bewitched. I have seen things you have not seen, seen things you would not believe. As has this woman. It is Septhis voice, and mine, for the wolves. If you banish her, you banish me."

"Those are unwise words pledge-son," warns Taaroko. "If you force us to cast you out, you force us to break a solemn pledge. The slave girl has banished herself, for she committed a crime when she rejected our exorcism. She no longer is of the house of Droug, or of this village. She no longer wears the headband of the kings house. If you choose to go with her, that is your concern, and you must speak with your father of it. But remember, you are only released from the pledge in one of two ways, if you marry, in which case you shall return to your fathers house, or if you are named leader of your fathers people, though that is unlikely for you are the youngest son. That is the law Eleutheros."

"I am released of the pledge," says Eleutheros, putting his arm around my waist. "I will marry this woman, and you will be relieved of us both."

"Very well," Taaroko's teeth glint as he speaks. "You take the woman, and leave us to deal with her wolves."