An Oath to Mida

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The fey was more than cool despite the brightness of the skies, yet I would not allow the discomfort of it to touch me. My warriors and I wore naught save the clan covering of the Hosta about our hips, each of us standing within small, silent sets not far from the platforms which had been set upon the grass within sight of the entrance of the immense dwelling of Galiose. The High Seat of Ranistard had declared a feast that fey for those who would soon arrive in the city, yet my warriors and I planned a greeting of another sort. I sat cross-legged upon the grass, watching the slaves both male and female prepare the provender for the feast, and Gimin and Fayan came to sit beside me.

“All are prepared, Jalav,” said Fayan, her brown eyes arove among my warriors. Then a small laugh escaped her, and she tossed her heavy, golden hair. “The males insisted to all Hosta that they be present at the feast for the Silla. Soon shall such demands be regretted by them.”

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