Somehow the Narcheska had found a smile. It was a bit wry at the corners as she gave a small laugh and a shrug. 'I've forgotten what I'm supposed to say now. Will someone speak the Mother's words for me?' Then, before anyone could reply to her request, she let her gaze come to meet Dutiful's. He had blushed before; now he burned as he met her eyes. She ignored his fluster and spoke calmly. 'You see, we combine two of our traditions tonight. By chance, it is my time to show myself as a blooded woman before my clan. And on this very day you are come here, to offer yourself as mate to me.'

His lips moved. I think they muttered the words 'blooded woman' but no sound came forth.

She laughed, but the lightness had gone out of it. It was brittle as ice shards breaking- 'Have you no ceremony among your folk for this? A boy bloodies his sword to become a man, no? In his ability to kill, he announces that he is now complete. But a woman has no need of a, sword. Eda herself bloodies us, and announces us as complete. What a man can take with a sword, a woman can give by her flesh alone. Life.' She set both her ringless hands on her flat belly. 'I have shed my first woman's blood. I can bring forth life from within me. I stand before you all, a woman now.'

There was a muttered response of 'Welcome, Elliania, Narwhal

Clan woman1.1 sensed that she had stepped back into the ritual and taken up the words, too. Peottre had retreated into the row of her clansmen. Women came to stand around her. A formalized greeting passed between every woman of the Narwhal Clan and EUiania. A group of wide-eyed girls, hair loose upon their shoulders, stood in a cluster, watching her. One, taller than the others and close to being a woman herself, pointed at Dutiful and said something approving to two of her fellows. They giggled and drew closer to her, whispering and nudging one another. I sensed that these girls had been Elliania's playmates and companions, but that Elliania had stepped apart from them now and into the ranks of the women. The effortless way in which she had assumed command of the situation told me that she had, in many ways, been a woman amongst them for a long time. This ceremony was the formal recognition that her body was starting to catch up with her spirit.

When every woman had greeted her, Elliania stepped back out of the circle of firelight from the hearth. A stillness came over the crowd, replacing the murmur of comment and welcome. For a brief time, I felt their awkwardness. Peottre shifted on his feet, then forced himself to stand still. Dutiful remained where he had been, and I sensed that these minutes were passing like hours for him.

Finally, the same young woman who had whispered to the Great Mother stepped forward. A faint blush suffused her cheeks. Obviously, she felt she was stepping above her station, but no one else had offered to take charge. She cleared her throat, but there was still a tremor in her voice as she said, 'I am Almata, a daughter of the Mothers of the Narwhal Clan. I am cousin to the Narcheska Elliania, and six years her senior. Unworthy as I am, I will speak for the Great Mother.'

She paused a moment, as if to allow time for someone to challenge her in this role. There were older women present, but none of them spoke. A few gave tiny, encouraging nods. Most looked heart-sick. Almata took a deep breath, visibly steadied herself, and spoke again.

'We are gathered in our mothershouse because one not of our clan has come among us, seeking to join his lines to ours. He asks, not just for any woman, but for our Narcheska Elliania, she whose

daughters will in turn be Narcheska and Mother and Great Mother to us all. Stand forth, warrior. Who seeks to court our Elliania, our Narcheska of the Narwhals? Where is the warrior bold enough to seek the mothers' permission to bed with our daughter, and give her daughters to raise up as Mothers of the Narwhal Clan?'

Dutiful took a shuddering breath. He should not have; he should have been steadier than that, and yet I could not blame him. All could sense that something was awry here tonight, and it was something more than foreigners intruding on an Outislander ceremony. I had a sense of people stretching to close a gap, of trying to mend a tragedy by retreating to tradition. Yet there was no space left for us to be cautious. Dutiful's voice was steady as he proclaimed, 'I come. I would have the Narcheska Elliania of the Narwhal Clan as the mother of my children.'

'And how will you provide for her and the children that you will give her? What will you contribute to the Narwhal Clan, that we should let your bloodlines mingle with ours?'

And suddenly we were on solid ground. Chade had prepared well for this. Riddle nudged me, and I stepped aside almost in rhythm with the other guards. Behind them was a canvas-draped heap. Longwick dragged the cover from it, and each guardsman in turn took up an item and brought it forward as Chadc announced what it was. Dutiful stood silent and proud as his gifts were presented to both Almata and the Narcheska, as well he might be. Nothing had been spared.

Some of the trove had come with us, hastily transferred from the Maiden's Chance to the Tusker. Casks of brandy from Shoaks, a bale of ermine skins from the Mountain Kingdom, and coloured glass beads from Tilth, wrought into a tapestry that could be hung over a window. Silver earrings, Kettricken's own handiwork. Cotton, linen and fine woollen cloth from Beams were among the offerings. Other gifts were merely mentioned as promises, cargo to be brought from Zylig on the next trip. The reading of that list took some time. The labour of three skilled smiths for three years. A bull and twelve cows of our finest bloodlines. Six brace of oxen, and a team of matched horses. Hunting hounds and two merlins, trained to be ladies' birds. And some things that Chade offered on Prince Dutiful's behalf were

only dreams yet: trade and peace between the Six Duchies and the Out Islands, gifts of wheat when their fishing harvest was poor, good iron, and the freedom to trade in all the Six Duchies ports. It was a long list and I felt the day's weariness catch up with me as Chade catalogued it for them.

But all weariness left me when Chade concluded and Almata spoke again. 'This is the offer made to our clan. Mothers, daughters and sisters, what say you? Do any speak against him?'

Silence followed her words. It evidently expressed approval, for Almata nodded gravely. Then she turned to Elhiania. 'Cousin, Woman of the Narwhal Clan, Elhiania the Narcheska, what is your will? Do you desire this man? Will you take him as yours?'

The muscles stood out in Peottre's neck as the slender young woman stepped forward. Dutiful held out a hand, palm up- She stood beside him, shoulder to shoulder, and placed her hand flat upon his. When she turned to look at him and their eyes met, my lad blushed again. '1 will take him,' she replied gravely. A part of me noted that she did not reply as to whether she desired him or not. She took a deeper breath and said, more loudly, 'I will take him, and he will bed me and we will give daughters to the mothershouse. If he performs the task that 1 have already named to him. If he can bring here, to this hearth, the head of the dragon Icefyre, then he may call me wife.'

Peottre's eyes flickered shut and then open again. He forced himself to watch as his sister-daughter sold herself. His shoulders moved once in what might have been a sob denied. Almata held a hand out and someone placed a long strip of leather in it. She stepped forward and continued speaking as she bound Dutiful's and Elliania's wrists together.

'This binds you as your words have bound you. While she accepts you, bed with no other, Dutiful, or that woman's life is forfeit to Elliania's knife. While he pleases you, Elhiania, bed with no other, or that man must face the challenge of Dutiful's sword. Now, mingle your blood upon the hearthstones of our mothershouse, in offering to Eda for the children she may send you.'