Macurdy had heard about spear maidens. Other nations didn't have them, he'd been told. The daughters of Heroes were trained from girlhood with weapons, the best being honored as spear maidens. They almost always married Heroes. No doubt the practice had been started deliberately to breed up warriors.

Marrying a spear maiden was nothing he wanted to do, but to leave with one, then pretend to get too drunk-

So he waited around, sipping at an ale to pass the time. There was cheering from the doorway, and laughter, male and female. Slave girls came prancing in, wearing nothing but little aprons in front and behind. Thirty or forty poured through the door in a brief flood, dispersing through the room, pairing off, men grabbing them, kissing and pawing. One, a blond with bold breasts, had spied Macurdy's large body and fended off other Heroes to reach him.

"I never saw you before," she said, and grabbing him, kissed him roundly while rubbing against his erection.

Good God! he thought, talk about brazen! "Sorry," he said, "I'm waiting for a spear maiden."

"Come on, Muscles, don't be that way. Let's you and me hump, and then you can wait for a spear maiden."

His powerful hands gripped her shoulders and removed her, holding her at arm's length. "When she comes in," he said, "I want to be ready and loaded. You're a great looking woman, and there's lots more guys here. You'll get all you want."

She tossed her head, insulted despite the compliments, and turning, walked away, reaching back to flip up her rear apron and expose her buttocks to him. Macurdy sighed. This could be a trying evening. Not a dozen feet away, one of the Heroes already had a slave bent over the table, his buttocks driving. More, though, were drinking and laughing with their girl of the moment, kissing between swigs.

Then he saw another woman enter, broad-shouldered, dressed in decorated calfskin breeches and shirt, wearing a short sword on one hip and a knife on the other. Just inside she paused, scanning the chaos with half a smile. Macurdy waved to her, and she started over. None of the unpaired Heroes grabbed at her, though several spoke as she passed. She answered without looking aside, her focus on Macurdy.

Half a dozen feet away she stopped and looked him over, seeing a man taller than most, lean and hard, with wide heavy shoulders and a strong, good-looking face. Macurdy, on the other hand, saw a woman as tall as an Ozman. Eighteen or twenty years old, he guessed, and long-legged, with shoulders that made her waist look small, and large muscular hands. She had a warrior aura. Her brown hair bordered on blond, and her face, dusted with freckles, suggested straightforward honesty.

She smiled at him before she spoke, and her teeth were strong and even. "I haven't seen you before. Where've you been?"

Suddenly Macurdy felt stupid. He couldn't tell the truth, it seemed to him, yet anything else would sound lame. "Visiting a couple shamans," he said.

"Shamans? On Six-Day evening?"

"When else?"

She cocked a critical eye at him. "My name is Melody."

Melody. With a sword and knife, fully clothed at an orgy. "Mine's Macurdy,"

"Macurdy? Never heard of a name like that. And you've got an accent. Where are you from?"

"I came here from Wolf Springs. Before that-I came from a far place."

"Sit down," she said, and motioned to a long bench built along the south wall. They went to it, and sat side by side. "Wolf Springs sends more than their share of Heroes," she said. "My dad's from Wolf Springs, and got my mother pregnant with me. She was a spear maiden too. Now tell me about this far place."

Without examining the wisdom of it, Macurdy began to talk on the premise that truth is usually safer than lies. "You've heard of the wizard gate there?"

She frowned. "Sure. What about it?"

"I came through it."

"Are you lying to me?"

"Nope. I came through a year ago. Got made a slave, and then the shaman's apprentice, till he found out I didn't have a healing touch. So he had me put in the militia. Now I'm here."

"A slave in the Heroes! I never heard of such a thing. You must be something, to have gotten sent here."

While they'd talked, a grinning Jeremid had come over with a slave girl, one of his hands kneading a breast. "He's a Hero, all right. We got a big jaguar up a tree today, and he climbed up and chased it down! It's true! Better grab him, Melody. He's going to be one of the all-time best!" He led his partner to his sleeping pad then, where she began undressing him. From nearby came the urgent, passionate grunts of some Hero's orgasm.

"This place gets me horny," Melody said, and getting up, sat astride Macurdy's lap, her face in his. "Let's you and I get acquainted. Where's your bed sack?"

"Uh, Melody, I'm married."

"Married!? They don't send married men here."

"Married on the other side. Through the gate."

Both her eyebrows raised. "On the other side doesn't count," she said. "The gate is one way. Guys have tried to go through it, but no one's made it except Sisters. Like swimming against a strong current, and the closer they got, the stronger it got." She put her arms around Macurdy's neck and kissed him, soft and moist, lingering. "The other side's lost to you, Macurdy," she murmured. "While I'm here, and I like you. I want to try you out. Who knows? Maybe I'll marry you."

He reminded himself to breathe. This woman was a lot more enticing, compelling, than the big blond. "I promised her to take no other woman as long as we both shall live."

She stared. "Even when she's somewhere else? Why would you promise such a thing?"

"It's part of the marriage agreement."

Melody frowned. "Crazy! Do the men there actually live up to it?"

"Most of them."

She kissed him again. "Think about it," she said. "Think about us naked on your bed." She got graphic then, describing sound, sight, and feel. Taking a long quavering breath, he put a hand on her shoulder. "Please," he said. "You're making this hard for me."

She laughed. "That's how we want it. The harder, the better."

"I'm not the one for you. Really. I'd like to be, but my wife is on this side too." It occurred to him that he might be saying too much, but he went on. "She got stolen and brought through. That's why I came through. And I love her more than my life. If I ever have a chance, I'll find her."

Melody stood up frowning. "Macurdy, you're a strange one, no doubt about it." She backed away a step. "I'll ask you again sometime. I don't give up easily." She turned then and walked away, his eyes following her to the door. When she reached it, she stopped and looked back, as if to see if he'd changed his mind and followed her. Instead he waved, once. She turned away again and disappeared.

By this time all the slave girls were sexually engaged, Hero haunches bobbing everywhere Macurdy looked. He took a deep quavering breath, walked to the narrow rear exit and left. No one would notice, he felt sure.

Outside, he ran off down the road, through the dusk, determined to run himself exhausted before he came back.

The next morning, Macurdy was lame. He'd alternately run and walked three or four miles the night before, and unaccustomed to it, was sore from buttocks to calves. "What's the matter with you?" the sergeant asked.

All around them were men hung over, or sleeping off exhaustion. "I'm sore," Macurdy answered.

Zassfel scowled. "Someone said you turned Melody down last night, then left. You never screwed anyone at all, did you."

His aura was hostile. To Macurdy's surprise, he found himself feeling better. Hostility was something he could deal with. "You don't know what I did," he said, "or what I can do."

Zassfel's eyes sharpened. "Is that some kind of threat?"

"I don't threaten anyone. Least of all the platoon sergeant."