Warprize

Chapter 12

Keir moved swiftly, issuing orders that got everyone moving. Even as Epor and Isdra secured Xymund’s body, Keir had Warren sending messages into the city, to rouse the lords and members of the council from their beds and order them to the castle. The confusion of bodies in the tent was organized chaos, with everyone following orders. Some took instruction to guard the camp, others to go to the city with us. Horses were brought to the tent entrance. To my frustration, I only had a moment with Keir before we left. He drew me close, and before I could ask any questions, he kissed me gently, then swept me into his arms. Outside, Lord Warren was mounted, and Keir placed me on the saddle before him. “You’ll keep her safe?”

Warren controlled the horse as it shifted under our weight. “With my life.”

Keir nodded once and moved to his own horse, calling for everyone to follow to the castle. Warren summoned his men, who surrounded us as a bodyguard. As we moved off behind Keir’s group, not even the sight of poor Anna trying to stay on her horse could ease my anxieties.

I shifted slightly in the saddle. “What happened at the castle?”

Warren spoke in my ear. “When I confronted him with my suspicions, Xymund went into a rage. I thought it was because there seemed to be a plot against you. But he raved, Lara. Like a man possessed. ” Warren sighed. “He wasn’t rational. He screamed that you had betrayed him, yet we knew that he had sold you for the peace. My expression must have given me away, for he immediately ordered me imprisoned.”

“Xymund didn’t sell me.” I explained what I had learned.

Warren grunted in surprise. “A consort? That bodes well.”

I pulled my cloak tighter around me. “He shouldn’t have killed him.”

I felt Warren shake his head. “No, Lara. Keir was right to act. Xymund was mad. I’d known that he was a coward, and an indecisive leader. But his actions made it clear that something wasn’t right.”

“The lords and the council may not—”

“The Warlord is an honorable man.” Warren’s voice was firm. “All will be well, Daughter of Xy.”

I didn’t answer him. Instead, I focused on the group of horsemen ahead of us. I caught a glimpse of a cloaked figure riding near Keir. I also saw Simus and Joden next to Keir, and some kind of discussion was going on, one that didn’t please Joden or Simus. All I could do was watch as we approached to the castle, my hands sweating and my heart in my throat.

In the courtyard, we dismounted, in a confusion of people and horses. Keir appeared with Othur. “ Warren, take her to the antechamber.” He turned and moved off before I could even open my mouth.

Warren hustled me into the castle, where we bumped into Heath, looking worse for wear with a cut on his forehead. “Heath!”

Heath turned, smiling to see me, and moved past the guards to catch me up in a hug. “Thank all the gods. I’d thought for sure that the Warlord wouldn’t be in time.” Heath grimaced. “Xymund caught sight of me as we rescued the hostages and started screaming. He slipped past us in the confusion. The King’s insane, Lara, I swear to you, he’s—”

“He’s dead.” Warren spoke from behind us.

“Dead?” Heath sucked in a breath. “By whose hand?”

Warren took my shoulders firmly. “Join your parents, Heath. They’re headed to the throne room.” Without ceremony, he moved me on, down the hall and into the antechamber.

With an odd feeling of having done all of this before, I waited before the fire in the antechamber, anxious for news, wondering what Keir was going to do. Warren waited with me, having placed his men at each door. Finally, Keir swept in, alone. “The people are assembled, and we are ready. Warren, take your place in the throne room.” Warren bowed, and left with his men. Keir moved closer to me, reaching out and taking me in his arms. He buried his head in my hair, and crushed me to his chest.

“What are you going to do?” I asked softly.

“What’s best. What’s necessary.” He nuzzled me behind my ear, and I shivered at the touch. He drew a deep breath, and then Keir pulled back, brushing my hair back with one hand. I stiffened when a horn sounded in the throne room. Keir stepped back without looking at me, took another deep breath, and headed for the double doors, throwing them open.

The Herald, standing there in full uniform, pounded the floor with his staff three times. “Lords and Ladies, all hail Keir, Warlord of the Plains and Overlord of Xy, and Xylara, Warprize, Daughter of Xy.”

Keir paused and held out his hand to me in an oddly formal gesture. I placed my hand over his, and we entered the throne room side by side. The white marble of the throne room gleamed in the light of the torches that ringed it. The lords of the court, and the craftmasters of the city filled the room, as did an even larger number of the Warlord’s men. Simus and Joden stood by the thrones. Someone had placed a tall brazier near to the throne, and a fire burned there, the flames dancing on the wood.

Not one to keep a formal pace, Keir strode us across the floor quickly, then settled in the throne with an easy grace.

As I sat, I noticed the wide-eyed, frightened looks of men and women pulled from their homes and beds. None of which eased as Keir rose to speak. “There has been violence done this night, an attack on the Warprize, Xylara, Daughter of Xy.” Keir continued to speak over the reaction of the crowd. “She was attacked by Xymund, her half-brother.” With a gesture of his hand, he summoned Epor and Isdra. They emerged from the antechamber, bearing the shrouded body, only to dump it before Keir. Epor knelt, and cut the shroud away, displaying the body.

The edges of the crowd drew back, voices raised in outrage and horror. I swallowed hard a few times, fighting back nausea. Keir let the assembly vent for a moment, then held his hand up for silence. “You have been gathered to hear our tales. Judge not, until all has been told. Each shall speak, and swear binding oaths as to the truth of their words.” Keir’s gaze moved over the group, and I somehow knew he was reading hearts as well as faces. “It is the custom of my people that oaths are sworn under the open sky. But an oath to the flame is just as binding.” He gestured to the brazier where the flames leaped, then returned to the throne. “I’ll be the first to speak.” With that, he wasted no time, summarizing the events of the last few days, starting with the assault in the healing tent. The silence deepened as he was brutally honest about the death of Xymund at his hand.

When Keir finished, Warren stepped forward and told his version. Othur spoke as well, holding a trembling Anna by his side. Heath spoke of Xymund’s commands, and the actions he had taken. Simus stepped forward and told of what he had witnessed.

When Marcus stepped forward, my heart almost broke. The small, scarred man, so bold and outspoken in Keir’s tent, was clearly uncomfortable. But he stood there, his one eye focused on Keir and spoke with Simus interpreting. There was a tinge of hysterical mirth in the crowd when Marcus gave his honest opinion of Xymund’s fighting abilities. At the end, he gave his oath, as the others had done before him.

Finally, Keir turned to me. “Xylara.”

My mind blanked as I stared at him. I took a deep breath, and started where he had, at Arneath’s attack. As I spoke, I scanned the faces in front of me, seeing an odd mixture of sympathy, trust, and suspicion. My voice stayed calm as I kept my facts in order, trying to remove the emotion from my voice and words. That broke down when I reached the part of Xymund’s arrival, and his words to me in the end. I had to look down at that point, focus on my hands, and struggled to complete the tale. Keir’s hand moved into my vision and covered mine, giving me strength. I didn’t look up, managing to stumble though the last of it, including the oath. There was silence at the end.

Keir withdrew his hand and stood. “Are there any who challenge the truth of these words?”

No one spoke.

“Are there any who challenge my authority to deal with Xymund as I saw fit?”

No one raised their voice.

“This matter is finished.”

While the faces in the crowd were still a mixture of doubts, fears, and mistrust, I relaxed slightly, resting against the back of the throne, feeling the tension in my shoulders ease. With no voices raised, I was sure that all would be well.

Keir turned his head, gesturing to Epor and Isdra. “Remove this.” Keir focused on the Archbishop Drizen. “Please see to it that the body is given the rites of his faith, with no further ceremony.”

“Please,” I cleared my throat. “Please have him interred with the royal family, Warlord.”

Keir frowned. “He would have killed you.”

“His mind was not his own at the end. Please let him lay next to his mother.”

Keir gave an abrupt nod. “See to it.”

The Archbishop inclined his head.

The crowd was growing restless. Keir gestured to the Herald, who tapped his staff three times in a call for silence. Still, Keir had to raise his voice to be heard. “Would the King’s Council step forward?”

The council stepped forward, led by Archbishop Drizen and Lord Marshall Warren.

Keir nodded to each. “We must now consider who will rule the Kingdom of Xy.”

My stomach knotted.

“It is right that Xylara, Daughter of the House of Xy take the throne,” Keir raised his voice, insuring that he would be heard. “I hereby release my claim of the Warprize and return her to her people.”

Stunned, the council gaped like fish. I opened my mouth, but Keir cut us all off. He rose to his feet. “My army will depart in four days. I leave Simus of the Hawk to act as my Overlord. Once we reach the borders of your land, I will send word back, recalling Simus, and releasing Queen Xylara of her oaths of fealty to me. Arrange the coronation with all due speed.” With that, he inclined his head to me and extended his hand. I rose and took his hand automatically. Using his advantage, he pulled me forward, then pressed me onto the seat of the high throne.

The cheers exploded from the throats of my people. The entire council began to clap, cheering as well. Keir looked at them, nodded to me, then strode toward the antechamber. I rose to follow, but the council surged forward, to clasp my hand, hug me, and to express their joy.

Overwhelmed, I fell back on the throne, stunned. Warren fought his way to my side, urging people back, and cleared the space in front of me. Amidst the cheers of my people, I rose, and followed Keir into the antechamber.

He was standing by the fireplace when I walked in, facing the door. His face was grim, his eyes on the fire.

I stopped just inside the room. “What are you doing?”

“This Kingdom must be ruled, and you are the blood heir, the logical choice for the throne.” He never looked up, didn’t turn to face me.

“You have claimed me as Warprize.”

“I renounce that claim.”

I moved closer, watching the light of the flames dance on his face. The muscle of his jaw was twitching as his jaw clenched. “Renounce the claim?” There was no response. “Renounce me? After we—”

Keir just stood there, watching the flames. “This is your home. These people will keep you safe, safe from attackers, safe from injury, safe from harm.” He looked up at me, his eyes bright. I couldn’t tell if it was reflected firelight or something else. “Being a Warprize is not safe.” He returned to staring at the flames.

“Especially when I’ve surrendered everything to the Warlord, only to have it flung back in my face!” Goddess, that wasn’t true, but I was so hurt the words were out of my mouth before I could think. He’d given me hope and joy so bright it hurt and now he was dousing the flame. I crossed my arms over my chest, suddenly chilled in a way that had nothing to do with the heat of the fire.

Keir didn’t respond to my words.

I drew myself up, and stretched out a trembling hand. “Keir, don’t do this.” I took a step toward him. He jerked back, avoiding my touch. As I stood there, stricken, he seemed to relent. He drew me into his embrace, wrapping his arms around me as if I were a precious treasure. I leaned into his hug, feeling the leather under my cheek and the warmth of his body. He drew a deep breath, held it, and let it out slowly.

As carefully as he had enfolded me, he released me slowly, taking a long step back. Tears in my eyes, I looked up at him, smiling. But his face was just as grim, and to my horror he turned away and went through the door into the hall. I followed, only to find Simus, Joden, Warren and Other standing there. Anna was there as well, with a tray of tea and sweets. Marcus stood off to one side, already wrapped in his cloak.

Keir cleared his throat. “Simus, you will remain here, as my representative. Joden, you will return with me to camp.” He spun on his heel to look at me. “Warren, I charge you with Queen Xylara’s security. For her own safety, I forbid her access to my camp. She is to remain safe within the city walls until I depart.”

Everyone gaped at him. He turned, and strode away, with Joden and Marcus scrambling behind him. Seized with an outraged fury, I grabbed the tea pot off Anna’s tray, and hurled it at Keir’s head. It missed, flew into the wall, and shattered into a thousand pieces, spraying tea everywhere. Keir flinched, but kept moving.

Just as shattered as the pot, I spun on my heels and ran, crying, to my old bedroom.

An hour later, the door opened, and two servants brought in one of the crates from my stilltent. I looked up, still weepy-eyed as they set it down, and bowed themselves out of the room. It didn’t take long for me to pry open the rough lid. It contained my herb book, my notebooks, my under things, the vanilla soap and oils, and the white sheath. No note, no comment, no message. I sat on the floor next to it, and wept.

The next morn, I watched from the window as the army packed up and prepared to march, letting the tears flow down my cheeks. I sat by the window all day as the shadows lengthened, and the torches flared up in the darkness. How could he do this? Didn’t he want me? I’d heard stories of course, overheard kitchen maids sobbing to Anna about men who’d stolen their virtue and left them crying, alone. Was that it?

I hurt so much, my head, my heart. My sorrow seemed unending and bottomless. Over and over, the events of the past week flicked through my mind. I leaned my cheek against the rough stone and gave in to my despair.

Anna brought in food at regular intervals. I am fairly certain that she begged me to eat something.

Warren came in, with reports and documents that needed my attention. I am sure that some of them were important.

Remn came in, to talk books and the replacement of the stillroom. I am fairly certain that he talked for some time before he left.

Othur came in, and discussed duties and obligations. He talked for quite awhile, till finally I turned and stared at him. He looked into my eyes, sighed, and left.

Heath came in, and stood there for a bit. He walked up behind me, and laid a hand on my shoulder. When I looked up, he smiled. “Follow your heart, my sister.” He turned and left the room.

And so I sat, mired in sadness and grief, ‘til just after dawn.

Eln entered. With gentle, understanding hands, he pulled me away from the window, and seated me on the bed. He checked me over quietly, with no comment. I closed my puffy eyes and sat silently, my head aching something fierce. Finally, Eln put one finger under my chin and lifted my head. I opened my eyes to see his concerned face, before a strange look flashed over his features.

Eln slapped me.

The blow rocked my head back, and I saw stars. I jumped up, my hand pressed to my face in astonishment, and felt the heat in my cheek. Eln stood there glaring, his face disdainful. “Is this the girl that demanded to become my apprentice? Who healed the enemy in the face of her brother’s wrath? Who sacrificed her life for her people?” His mouth pursed, like he had tasted bad wine.

“Eln, I—”

“No excuses. You want something, you work for it, not sulk in your room weeping like a spoiled child. In all honor, either balance the needs of your people and your desires, or accept your responsibilities.” He drew himself up. “I am ashamed to claim you as student when you act like this.”

The heat that flooded my face had nothing to do with his blow. I bowed my head. “I’m sorry, Master.”

“Then do something.” Eln swept toward the door. “Bathing would be a good start.”

He left me standing there, looking down at my tear-stained tunic and feeling an utter fool. My old master was right. There was more at risk here than my heart, and I was acting like a spoiled child. Embarrassed, I wiped my face, gathered up clean clothes and opened the door to the hall. Two guards stood outside the door, and a chambermaid was sitting against the far wall. She jumped when I opened the door.

“Your Majesty.” She curtsied, wobbling a bit as she rose.

I grimaced. “Not very majestic at the moment.”

She fixed her eyes on me like a frightened doe.

“I’m going down to the baths. Would you ask Anna to have some food ready for when I’m done? I’ll come down to the kitchen.”

“I’d bring up a bath for you, Majesty, if you want.”

“No, thank you. Just please take my message to Anna.”

“Oh, yes, Your Majesty. She’ll be so happy.” The girl hiked up her skirts and took off.

“Wait!” I called after her. She turned, still moving backwards. “Please ask Othur to join me there?”

“Oh, aye, I’ll tell him you want him.” She called over her shoulder. “Aye!”

“Make sure you say please!”

I heard her faint ‘Aye’ as I turned to my guards and looked them over. The younger one shifted uncomfortably. The older one gave me a patient look. “Your Majesty, Lord Marshall Warren’s orders are that you are to be protected at all times. Him and the Warlord’s orders.” sighed, but knew this was a lost cause. I nodded to the guards, and started down the corridor.

Scrubbed clean, and with fresh clothes, I sat at the huge table near the hearth in the kitchen, with hot soup and bread before me. The soup was thick with chunks of meat and potatoes. The bread was warm, and Anna was spreading the butter thick with a knife. “Here, child, eat.”

My two guards were at the kitchen door, far enough for privacy’s sake. Othur sat opposite me, nursing an ale. “Might as well, Lara. She won’t rest until you do.”

I pulled the bowl close, hoping that the warm food would ease the pounding in my head. I craved a mug of kavage, but knew better than to ask for it. Besides, it wouldn’t taste the same without—

I cut that thought off, and dug into the food.

“I can drizzle the bread with some honey.” Anna moved toward the shelves.

“No, Anna, please sit.” I tucked a strand of damp hair behind my ear, and kept eating.

Anna finally settled her bulk on the stool next to me, her smile so large it increased the number of her chins. “There’s so much to plan, now that you’re returned safe and sound to us. A coronation feast, the ceremonies—”

The bread tasted wonderful, and I dipped a piece in the soup as Anna talked about a half dozen things, including preparing my father’s old rooms for me. Othur said nothing, just studied his ale, then my face, then returned to his ale again. Eventually, Anna ran out of words and she sat silent, darting looks between Othur and me. Neither of us was willing to speak first, and finally Anna lost her patience. “What is it, child?”

“She doesn’t want the crown.” Othur rumbled.

“What?”

“Othur,” I pleaded. “You’ve been the seneschal for years, under my father. Can you honestly say it’s in the best interest of the kingdom for me to rule?”

Othur frowned. “You are a Daughter of Xy. Your duty requires you to rule your kingdom and rule it well, Xylara. That is what your father would expect of you. Regardless of your personal desires.”

“Othur, I never wanted to be queen. I don’t have the skills to be queen. My dream was having a school of healing, not to—”

“The events of the last month have frightened the people. They need stability, reassurance that all will be well.” Othur’s eyes drilled into me. “Your presence on the throne will comfort them. You can learn the skills necessary, given time.”

“Anything less is a betrayal of your father and your father’s father.” Othur stood, pushing his stool back. “ I’ll hear no more of this, My Queen.” With that, he walked out of the kitchen.

Anna placed a trembling hand on my arm. “Child, you’re home and safe. Where else would you want to be?”

I sighed, and ate more soup.

I left Anna, and went out into the kitchen gardens, then down the path to the great rose briar. My two guards followed like shadows.

I hated to admit it, even to myself, but Othur was right. Father had always said that the price of privilege was responsibility. Like it or not, I was Heir to the Throne of Xy. I had an obligation, one that I could not avoid or ignore or pass to someone else.

The scent of roses grew as I got closer to the briar. Apparently Anna had not yet picked it clean. I picked one of the flowers, and held it to my nose, enjoying the scent, bringing memories of my father. But not just his sickbed. I saw him on the throne, and in council, making decisions, ruling wisely and well. I walked on, lost in my thoughts.

I knew little of politics, little of diplomacy, and the thousand other things one needed to be queen. Maybe Keir’s people had a better way, one that depended on proven abilities rather than birth. One thing was certain, at least to me. I’d be an inept ruler. And if I did take the throne, it was highly unlikely that I’d be able to tend a sick person ever again. As warprize, I’d be able to, even encouraged to heal, maybe teach.

I jerked to a stop and stopped breathing. For here in the dimness of the garden, where shadows hid me from prying eyes, I faced the truth.

I wanted Keir.

I wanted Keir more than I wanted to make the sick well, or pass on my skills to others. I wanted Keir more than I wanted to sit on the Throne of Xy and ward my people. I wanted his strength, his touch, his sly sense of humor, his honor and his passion.

I stroked the flower against my warm cheek, feeling the velvet of the petals. Days? Had it only been days? Does the heart count days, or even hours?

I moved over to one of the stone benches, and slumped down. I sounded like one of those horrid old ballads, sung by minstrels to lovesick court maidens with empty heads. Part of me was ashamed to face the truth. A true Daughter of Xy would put aside her desires and serve her people.

With Keir beside me, that service was one that would fill my days with joy and purpose.

Without him, it felt like a cold and joyless burden.

If I’d thought my options limited with Xymund alive, they seemed even more confining now that he was dead. Being the warprize might be a risk, but it held out opportunities I’d never dreamed of.

Keir had made his decision, for reasons I didn’t fully understand. Clearly, Anna and Othur would not help me. They seemed to think that they could put everything back the way it was, reassemble the broken teapot and put it back up on the shelf, as if nothing had happened. Except, I didn’t want to go back on the shelf and I couldn’t believe that my father would have wanted me to be miserable.

There had to be a way.

Anna had housed Simus in the quarters usually used by visiting ambassadors. They were large and spacious, with plenty of room for he and his guard. The rest of his men were housed in one of the barracks. As I was admitted to the outer sitting room, I scanned the faces of the guards, but saw no one familiar.

“Little healer!” Simus’s voice boomed out, and I turned to behold him standing there, hands on hips. My smile and laugh burst out spontaneously. He was a vision, dressed in a flowing shirt of white, black trous, a belt of red and a bright blue vest. I’d never seen him in other than armor. His left ear was pierced with five gold hoops of varying sizes, and they glittered every time he moved his head. He grinned at my re-action, and spread his arms wide. “I thought to make your people green with envy at my splendor. Have I succeeded?”

“Beyond your wildest expectations.” I chuckled. “Their eyes will pop out of their heads like marbles.”

Simus drew himself up proudly, then made a sweeping bow. “Welcome to my chambers, Your Majesty.” His Xyian was carefully pronounced. “How may I assist you?”

“Simus, I want to ask your advice about something.”

He looked at me carefully, growing serious, and reverted to the language of his people. “I can’t promise to assist you, Your Majesty. The Warlord has made his wishes known, and I am bound to obey him.”

I rubbed my sweaty palms on my dress, trying to remain calm and controlled. “Simus, I don’t understand. Why is he doing this?”

Simus shrugged. “What’s to understand? Does one understand the wind or predict the flame?” Simus gestured me to a chair. “There are things you do not know, little healer. Being warprize carries its own dangers. The warrior-priests and the elders will fight Keir tooth and nail over this, and you’d be in the center.”

“Do they hate Keir that much?”

Simus’s face grew serious. “Ah, that hate lies on both sides, and who is to say whose is the greater? But it matters not. Keir is the Warlord, and his will binds me. You will remain in your kingdom, and be crowned its queen. Once that is accomplished, I will return to the plains, and all will be well.”

“Simus—”

He shook his head, setting his earrings glittering in the light. “No. I will not discuss this with you.” He gestured toward two chairs by the unlit fireplace. “Come. We will have some of Anna’s good cooking and swill this drink called ‘ale’ and you will tell me of your ceremonies. Tell me what a ‘coronation’ is and what tasks you are required to perform.” He raised a finger in warning. “But I will hear no talk of anything else. Understood?” His eyes were kind but firm.

“Understood.”

Eln opened the backdoor of his clinic, and regarded Heath and me and my four bodyguards with a neutral expression. After a slight pause, he stepped aside. Heath and I slipped past him, into the stillroom, followed by two of the guards. It was a bright, cheery place, with a crackling fire in the hearth, and various potions bubbling in caldrons. I felt myself relax as I breathed in the familiar scents of medicines and tonics. I’d learned my craft here, and it felt like home.

“What’s that stink?” Heath asked, screwing up his face.

“A medicine.” Eln moved over to the table to stir a pot. He glanced at me with a questioning look. “What brings Your Majesty to my humble clinic?”

“My majesty needs to talk to you. To talk to someone I can trust.” I sat on a stool. Heath wandered the room, looking at the various bottles and jars. The two guards remained by the door.

“Trust?” Eln focused on me, at the same time he reached out and slapped Heath’s hands away from a jar.

“Trust that you have no preconceived notions of what is best for the kingdom and for me.”

Eln gave me a sharp look before turning to Heath. “Scamp, make yourself useful. There’s a load of new wood at the back. Go cut it for me. And take those two lummoxes with you.”

Heath looked startled. “We’re protecting Lara.”

Eln snorted. “She’s worked in this clinic for many years with no fears. Your muscles are wasted in here when they could be useful. Go. Or I’ll set you to chopping herbs and stirring cauldrons.”

Heath flashed a grin. “At least we won’t be breathing in the stink.” He laughed as Eln scowled. The guards chuckled too, as they headed out the door.

“So?” Eln looked me over from head to toe. His face was still neutral.

“Eln, I know what I want. Everyone at the castle is certain that I’m best for the kingdom, and I don’t think that’s true.”

“And?”

I gritted my teeth. Eln was in teacher mode, which was very irritating. “Simus won’t talk to me. Othur and Warren have already decided what is best for the kingdom. And I’m not sure of what to do next.”

Eln stirred his pot for a moment. “If the kingdom were ill, what would you do?”

“What?”

He shot me a look. “If the kingdom were to somehow stumble into the clinic, weak and ill, what would you do first?”

“I’d ask questions, try to discover what was wrong.”

“Such as?”

Impatient, I glared at him. “What is wrong? How are you feeling? Have you urinated today? Have you vomited? How are your bowels?”

Eln kept silent and kept stirring.

“One of the rules you teach us is that before we can start to cure a patient, we must first understand the disease.” He nodded, taking a pinch of marjoram and sprinkling it into the pot. I sat for a moment, trying to apply my healing skills to my problem. “I need to know what problems my coronation solves, and see if there’s an alternative.”

He shrugged. “You need to start thinking.”

I rubbed my cheek. “So you said.”

“Well, you came up with a punishment for me, I fear.” He smiled ruefully. “Seems my newest patient wants me to read The Epic of Xyson to her on a daily basis. A fate worse than death.”

I sat up, surprised. “Is Atira here?”

“Just so. The Warlord sent her to me, with a pouch of gold. Asked that I see to her, since her healer is no longer available.” He held up a hand at my indignant expression. “His words, not mine.”

“Where?”

“I put her in the corner room. If you’re going back there, take this to her.” Eln handed me two mugs of tea. “She asked for kavage, but will have to make do with this for now.”

I took the mugs and headed for the corner room. It was one of the larger ones, with a big fireplace of its own. Behind me, I heard Eln call out the door for one of the guards to fetch water, and for the others to keep chopping. I had to smile as I ducked into the corner room.

Atira lay there, her leg suspended from one of Eln’s rigs, his weights pulling it straight. She blinked at me for a moment, then a smile covered her entire face. “Warprize!” She struggled to sit up. “No, no, that’s not right.” She narrowed her eyes in concentration. “Greetings, Your Majesty.” She spoke the words in Xyian. “Did I say it right?”

I set the mugs down and helped her sit up. “You did.” Once she was settled, I handed her one of the mugs.

She sipped it, and wrinkled her nose. “If I’d had time, I’d have asked for kavage before they hauled me here. But the Warlord hustled me right out of camp.”

“Maybe Simus will share his supply.”

She rolled her eyes. “Nay, he’ll hoard what he has and use the grounds twice, even if I had a headache that might kill me. Not that I blame him.” She looked at me over the rim of the mug. “I only got hints of what happened at the castle. The Warlord said that I was to be cared for here until the leg is healed, then join him on the Plains.” Her eyes were bright with curiosity.

I took the hint and summarized what had happened. She listened intently, shaking her head when I reached the end.

Heath stomped in, a load of wood in his arms. “Eln never changes, Lara. Always the task master.” He moved to the wood box and dumped his load. As he stood, he flashed a grin at Atira. “How’s the leg?”

She frowned, and answered carefully in Xyian. “It is well. Thank you.”

Heath laughed. “I don’t envy you, stuck here with Eln for the next few weeks.”

Atira smiled. “I have this.” She held up The Epic of Xyson and the reader that I had purchased.

Heath rolled his eyes. “That hoary old thing? There are better books to read.”

Atira’s eyes got big. “There is more than one?” She looked at me for confirmation.

Heath laughed. “I’ll bring you something from the castle that’s better than that one.” Eln’s voice raised from the still-room and Heath grimaced. “Back to work.” He gave me an imploring look as he walked to the door. “Please, don’t be long.”

I laughed at him, then turned back to Atira, switching back to her language. “Will it harm Keir, not to produce a Warprize?”

“Aye.” Atira nodded. “The Warlord sent messages when you were claimed. If he can’t produce you, the people will say that the Warprize rejected him.” She thought for a moment, stroking the cover of the Epic. “The Warlord built this army carefully, explaining that we would not receive the usual share of the spoils. Instead, he made agreements to pay his warriors with money or land. If he can’t reward the army, he will be shamed. Or worse.”

“I don’t understand him.” I set my mug down and ran my fingers through my hair. “Why is he doing this?” She shrugged. “Atira, Simus said that the warrior-priests and the elders hate Keir as much as he hates them. Why?”

“I don’t know all the details. Keir has always been vocal that warrior-priests withhold their magic from those who need them most.”

“Magic? They use magic?” My voice squeaked. “There’s no such thing, Atira.”

“Yet that is what they claim.” Atira frowned. “I’m not privy to the ways of warlords, or their councils. I didn’t even know that a warlord could renounce a warprize.” She shrugged. “But then, I am no singer, to know all the laws and customs.”

I blinked. “Joden would know, wouldn’t he?”

“Of course.”

Keir had taken Joden back to camp, and forbidden me to follow. I chewed my lip, thinking about that for a moment.

“Now.” Atira looked at me intently. “You can answer a question for me. I’ve been thinking about the Epic, and Us-tening closely. It speaks of a son ‘inheriting’ from his father. Does this mean that the son can ‘inherit’ a thing? Like a horse?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

“Can a son ‘inherit’ power? Status?”

“Or even a throne. Xymund got the throne when my father died.”

Atira frowned, thinking. “So a man with no real skill could hold a place of power, without earning it? That is very strange.” She sipped her tea, then looked at me. “And with Xymund’s death, you take the throne. ” She paused. “Who takes the throne if you die with no children?”

My eyes widened. Who indeed?

I burst out of the clinic, to find Heath and the guards at work on the firewood. “Heath!”

“Lara?” Heath turned, surprised, as the guards reached for their weapons. “What’s wrong?”

“I need to get some maps of the lands that surround us and talk to Remn. And Estoval, and Kalisa, if I can find her.” I grabbed my horse’s reins and mounted. The guards ran for their mounts.

“The cheesemaker?” Heath stood there, looking like a half-wit, the axe in his hand.

“Yes, the cheesemaker.” I urged my horse out the back gate. Heath dropped the axe and ran to his horse. “And Warren. I need to talk to them all, right now.”

Heath heaved himself into the saddle. “What’s the rush, Lara?”

“The Warlord’s army leaves in two days!”

My hands were sweating, my stomach lay in knots, my head ached, and the crown of the Kingdom of Xy was going to fall off my head at any moment. I’d sent messages as soon as I had returned to the castle, and called a Council meeting for sunset. Since that time, I’d locked myself in my room with maps of the region and considered my options.

The council room was packed, with Simus, Othur, Warren and the council members. All of them staring at me as I sat behind my father’s desk. I sat up straight, and kept my hands in my lap. It would make it easier to conceal their shaking. I cleared my throat, and the room settled. “I have called this meeting to discuss the welfare of the Kingdom of Xy.” I took a breath to quiet my stomach. “Simus of the Hawk is here as a representative of the Warlord Keir. The Warlord has confirmed that he will relinquish his claims to the Kingdom of Xy once I have been crowned.” Simus inclined his head as an acknowledgment. His attendance was important, but even more important was that he didn’t understand what I was doing until it was too late.

I smiled at the council members. “Thank you for attending this meeting on such short notice. I wish to apologize for not being prepared to name my council at this time, for I am minded to reduce the size of the council. I regret the delay, but ask your forgiveness during this chaotic period. I would request that you all continue to serve in a temporary capacity, until I have considered and chosen my permanent advisors.”

That set the cat among the fowl. I could tell that some hadn’t considered my right to name a new or smaller council. Good. I wanted them unsettled and thinking about what my coronation would mean to them.

“First, I feel that I must correct a lie that Xymund told to us and to the people. Let me explain the meaning of the word ‘warprize’.” I took my time, emphasizing the honor that the title bestowed, and its meaning to those of the Plains. Simus confirmed my words, but I could see limited understanding in their eyes. It didn’t matter to me if they thought it was the truth, or an effort to restore my wounded pride. So long as they believed. That chore done, I turned to the important issues. “With the Kingdom returned to the House of Xy, we must consider the needs of our country and its people. While the Warlord has offered assurances that the raiding will not resume during his lifetime, Lord Warren and I have discussed our safety. The knowledge of a female ruler on a throne will spread, and there may be those who will challenge our throne and borders. Our military must be strong enough to deal with these challenges, and that will mean raising taxes for its support.”

I cleared my throat and took a sip of water. The headache was still there, pounding fiercely behind my temples. “Which leads me to the next topic that I and my council need to consider. We need to consider any potential alliance marriages and assuring that the royal line continues.”

Archbishop Drizen was frowning. Hopefully, he was starting to think about what a royal consort would mean. A man, unknown to them, who would come in and, by simple virtue of my lack of skills, would move into a position of power. Let that idea settle into their understanding.

“We must also prepare in the event that I should die in childbirth or without living issue. The people must be assured that the kingdom will pass into safe and strong hands.” I bit my lip, as if in thought. “There are few distant cousins, but they must be considered as potential heirs.”

There were definite looks of concern now. They all knew the cousins.

“Would that there was time to discuss some type of trade relations with the Warlord before he left.” I turned my head carefully. “Simus, would your people be open to such talks?”

Simus shook his head. “Your Majesty, our people take what they want. The idea of trade is foreign to them. I fear that will not happen.” He shrugged. “That is a concept that only a warprize could introduce to the tribes.”

“A shame. I liked the colors.” I smiled at him. “Especially the purple that you wear today.”

Simus arched his eyebrows and smiled, sitting a bit straighter in his chair. I stifled a smile, for Simus out of uniform was a sight to behold. He seemed to prefer gaudy colors, and shone like a peacock among drab pigeons. He preened as the lords and ladies of the council gawked at him. What he missed was the look of greed on Masterweaver Meris’s face. She looked like she would do anything to get the secret of those dyes.

Exactly as I had hoped.

I rose, and everyone rose with me. “We have many hard decisions to make in the coming days. We will meet tomorrow, three hours after dawn, in order to begin this great work. May the Goddess bless us all.”

Simus extended his arm, and I took it. The buzz of talk started before we were over the threshold and into the hall. As the doors swung shut, I took the crown off with a sigh. “Simus, do you have any kavage in your chambers?”

Simus laughed. “I do indeed.”