"A curse of some sort. The Eandi couldn't do such a thing on their own."

"I told you this would lead to war."

S'Doryn looked at T'Noth, who was eyeing him closely, his expression grim.

"I told S'Plaed about Jynna," U'Selle was saying to them all, quieting the rising din in the room. "I also told him about the Mettai woman. It seems our people are under attack, though in a way that none of us has seen before, or even considered. Well, fine then. Our foes will find that the strength of the Fal'Borna hasn't slackened at all in the years since the last Blood Wars. Others will be watching now for the Mettai witch who struck at our friends in Tivston, just as we are, just as we will also be watching for this demon merchant, this Torgan Plye. If they're on the plain, they won't live long." A dark smile touched her face and was gone. "Enemies of the Fal'Borna never do."

Chapter 18

Grinsa and Cresenne's first days among the Fal'Borna weren't quite as difficult as Grinsa had feared they might be. Yes, they were captives; there could be no denying that. Had their welcome from E'Menua, the sept's a'laq, been friendlier, had they been given the option of staying with the sept or moving on as they saw fit, Grinsa and Cresenne might very well have chosen to remain, at least for a time. From all they had heard from R'Shev, D'Chul, and the other merchants, it seemed the Fal'Borna were a hard, uncompromising people, and certainly their captivity seemed further evidence of this. But the Fal'Borna could also be friendly, open, and generous.

As the a'laq had promised, their shelter was up and ready for them before nightfall on that first day they reached the sept. They were given food and wine, including roasted rilda, which might have been the most delicious meat Grinsa had ever tasted. And over the course of those first few days family after family came to welcome them to the village. The women cooed at Bryntelle and spoke to Cresenne of their own children and all they had learned over their years of caring for infants. The men ignored both Cresenne and Bryntelle, instead vying with one another for Grinsa's attention. There could be little doubt that all the attention they received, perhaps even the kindnesses shown to Cresenne, whom all thought of as merely Grinsa's concubine, was due to the fact that he was a Weaver. It was unclear whether the Fal'Borna hoped to convince him to remain with the sept of his own accord, or merely assumed that he would remain and were seeking to curry favor with their newest Weaver.

In the end, the Fal'Borna's motivations mattered little. Knowing that they were not permitted to leave made Grinsa and Cresenne think of leaving nearly all the time. The courtesies shown them by the men and women of the sept were particularly hollow for Cresenne, who knew that had Grinsa not been a Weaver, they would have ignored her completely. Indeed, even as they complimented her on how beautiful Bryntelle was, and how healthy the babe appeared to be, some of the younger women also cast looks at Grinsa, as if hoping that they might find a way into his bed as well. This at least is what she told him their second night in the village, as they lay alone in their shelter, listening to Bryntelle's steady breathing and the distant howling of a wolf.

Under other circumstances, he might have thought that she was imagining this. But one of the men who had been speaking to him earlier in the night had as much as offered Grinsa his daughter.

"Many of our Weavers have taken two, even three concubines," the man told him, explaining the offer as he might have explained the Harvest weather or the rising and falling of the price of grain in the marketplace. "A Fal'Borna Weaver spreads his seed as he pleases. For the good of our people, of course."

"Of course," Grinsa had said, smiling pleasantly. "But Cresenne isn't my concubine. She's my wife."

The man's eyes widened. "Oh! Forgive me! I didn't know she was a Weaver as well. I thought… Well, I was mistaken."

Grinsa should have let it go at that, but regardless of whether they were to remain, he didn't want to have any of them thinking him a liar.

"She's not a Weaver," he told the man. "Where we come from, Weavers are free to be joined to whomever they choose."

"Well," the man said, smiling in return, "you're here now."

It was much the same thing E'Menua had said to them the day before.

"I have you," Grinsa told Cresenne that night, kissing her brow. "Why would I need another concubine?"

She laughed, though she also kicked him under the blanket.

"You're finding all of this far too amusing," she said, and while she was still smiling, he could hear the tightness in her voice.

"I'm sorry. Really. This can't be easy for you."

"Half the time, it's like I'm not even here. They talk about finding a wife for you from one of the other septs, about how your arrival here means so much to them all."

"It seems that some of the women have been kind to you."

She nodded. "Some of them have. But I'm starting to suspect that the ones who are nicest are the ones who have been concubines themselves. And they're kind to me right up until I insist that I'm not just your concubine. As soon as I say anything to that effect, they grow cold, distant." A bitter smile touched her lips. "It seems like I'm better off playing along. Maybe I should help them find you a wife."

"I have a wife."

She looked at him. "No, Grinsa, you don't. I know that you love me, and I love you, too. But the fact is we were never joined. With all that happened in the turns before we left the Forelands, we never found the time. And even if we had, I'm not certain that it would count for much here."

He felt a tightness in his throat. "What are you saying?" he asked.

She smiled at what she saw on his face, and kissed him softly on the lips. "Nothing terrible. I may not be a Weaver, but I'll fight with every bit of strength and magic I have if they try to take you away from me. I'm just saying that we're going to have to tread carefully here. We might even have to play along for a time, let them think that you're open to being joined."

"Cresenne-"

She held a finger to his lips, then kissed him again. "It's all right. We can do this. Just for a little while, just long enough for us to figure out how to get away. It might be the only hope we have."

"That all sounds fine for me," he said. "But what about you? Can you bear being treated as a concubine for that long?"

"I'll manage it." She shrugged, a small grin lighting her face. "I may have to convince some other Weaver that I'd be willing to become his concubine. Just to keep up appearances, of course. Although the men here are very handsome."

Grinsa smiled. "Is that so?"

She nodded, giggling as he started to kiss her neck.

"If you ask me," he said, "they're just short."

Her eyes sparkled in the candlelight. "They're tall enough."

He kissed her again, and this time she held him, kissing him back deeply.

"We'll get out of here," he whispered, as she nestled against him and closed her eyes. "I'm not sure how yet, but we will."

"I know," she said, sounding sleepy. "I just hope we can find a way to leave without making the Fal'Borna our enemies. I have a feeling that would be dangerous."

The next few days were much like their first among the Fal'Borna. As time went on, and they were accepted into the community, they came to feel less like curiosities. Several of the women made clear to Cresenne that she was expected to work with the rest of them at various tasks, be it tanning rilda skins, or grinding wild grain into meal for breads, or gathering roots and greens from the small copses that covered the nearby hills. Other women with young children, even those with babes younger than Bryntelle, left them in the care of some of the girls who were not yet old enough for such work, and they told Cresenne to do the same. At first, she later told Grinsa, she was reluctant, but seeing how happy all the children appeared to be, she eventually relented.