Warprize

Chapter 5

I closed my eyes and clutched for a handhold as I was lowered to the furs. It had finally come, I wasn’t ready, and yet…

I’d known my duty since I was a girl. I’d thought perhaps, at some point, that I’d lie with a man, one chosen for me by my father, a man bound to me by sacred oaths in a ceremony performed in the throne room of the castle. I’d thought my husband would honor and respect me, and maybe even come to care for me in time. But those dreams had faded over the years, since Xymund had been in no hurry to give me in marriage.

Now the hands on my body were the hands of a master, and there were no promises or bonds between us. No ceremony, no oaths, no idea of what my future held. I’d been given at the command of my king and I had obeyed, but my heart cried out for all the lost possibilities. Respect. Honor.

Love.

Just like the night before, Keir’s hand pressed against my chest, over my heart. Its warmth blazed through my shirt, and drove all rational thought from my mind. The bed shifted as he lay down next to me, on his side, slightly pressing against my body. I drew in a deep breath, but when nothing else happened, I cracked open my eyes.

He’d moved forward, his face close to mine. Startled, I turned my face away ever so slightly, embarrassed by the intimacy. He leaned in and nuzzled my ear. As skin touched skin, I gasped at the contact. Undaunted, he placed a gentle kiss at the edge of my jaw. His warm breath tickled my cheek. He leaned in farther, and this time licked the same spot on my jaw, a light flicker of the tongue. I squirmed. His hand pressed me down slightly, as if to command my stillness. I managed to stop moving, but my breath was coming faster than normal. There were feelings as well, a kind of ache. A kind of longing.

I wanted to say something at that point, but he moved like a large cat, looming over me. His elbows were on either side, his legs pinning mine. I barely had time to note the look in his eyes before he captured my mouth with his.

I was swept away, by lips that tantalized and teased and took exactly what they wanted. He didn’t just press lips together, he was using it all, mouth, tongue, and teeth. After a bit, he backed off to allow me to breathe. He didn’t retreat, just pressed soft, small kisses at the corners of my lips as I desperately pulled air in.

His face held a satisfied look. One hand reached up to stroke my face gently. Keir moved his hand, running his fingers through my hair, spreading it out over the fur. His eyes flared with blue light.

“Want to know the best part of being a warlord?” came a hoarse whisper.

I bit my lip, puzzled by the question.

Keir’s mouth curled up slowly into a smile. “I always get what I want.”

His lips came down on mine, demanding, coaxing, then taking. Again and again, over and over, he brought me to the brink of something till I was unsure of where he ended and I began. At some point, I would be overwhelmed by it all, and a trace of fear would touch me. Each time, he would back off, calm me down with soft sounds and touches. Letting me take in air.

Then he would proceed to do it all over again.

I wanted more. My arms had been pinned down, and now I struggled to bring them up to enclose him, touch him. He chuckled, then moved slightly to give me room. My upper arm came in contact with Keir’s hand, and I hissed slightly at the touch.

Keir froze, and moved back. “What’s wrong?” He frowned. “I hurt you?”

I shook my head, confused by the comment. It was hard to think, since my body seemed to have other concerns. Keir was not convinced. He reached for my shirt and eased it open and down my arm.

“Who has done this?” Keir’s voice was a growl.

I was startled. The man staring at me was one I had not seen before, his eyes cold, his face hard. I looked down, horrified to see bruises on my upper arm. Clearly, the fingerprints of a large hand, probably the woman warrior who had grabbed me.

“I will kill the one who has hurt you.” Keir jumped from the bed and strode to the tent entrance. “ Marcus.” His voice whipped out. He started pacing in the space available.

“I—” I sat up and struggled to cover myself with the shirt. “It’s nothing…”

Keir turned, his eyes like blue ice, and I froze. Dearest Goddess, he was serious. His eyes were filled with rage.

Marcus ran in, looking as if he had been roused from sleep. He took one look at Keir and was on his knee, head down. I struggled to cover myself, fumbling with the shirt.

Keir barely gave Marcus a glance. “Someone has injured the warprize.” He stomped over and towered over me. His hands gently turned me so that the bruises were visible. “Look.”

Marcus looked up. His eye widened at the sight. He dropped his eye again almost immediately. Keir pulled the shirt back up to cover my breast and shoulder. “Who did this?” he said, in a very calm, very deadly voice.

I took the example Marcus had set, sank down on one knee, and bent my head as well to let my hair conceal my face.

Keir resumed his pacing, moving like a caged animal. “I am waiting for an answer.”

I swallowed. “Warlord, it was an accident. I was at the tents of healing, tending to those in need.” My mouth was so dry I could barely get the words out.

“You’ve been hurt. No one touches what is mine.” Keir was almost roaring, his anger white hot. I trembled at the force of his voice, but did not move or look up.

“Warlord, I was treating a wound.” I swallowed hard, trying to get some moisture in my mouth. “The warrior was startled. The fault was mine.”

“Are you trying to get yourself killed? Destroy the peace?” There was an odd note of anguish in his voice.

“No! I wouldn’t betray—”

“You will tell me who it was. He will answer to me.”

“No.” I closed my eyes and held my breath.

Keir came to stand next to me. I could feel his hot glare, hear his heavy breathing.

Yet, somehow I knew that he would not hurt me. Slowly, I raised my head and looked up. His anger had not abated, it was merely held in check. Carefully, I reached out and placed my hand on his arm. The muscles underneath quivered with tension. “Warlord, I am unhurt. The bruises will fade.”

He was unappeased. “You’re under my protection. Whoever did this will pay for his actions.”

“When the action was unintended?” I rose up slowly and moved my hand to his shoulder. I moved carefully, staying as close as I dared. I could just make out Marcus, still kneeling by the entrance. “A warrior taken unaware?”

“As Simus was in the garden?”

I nodded.

He seemed to understand, but had a grim expression on his face. “You are defying me.” His voice rumbled, but it was softer then before.

“Only in defense of one who does not deserve your wrath.” I looked up into angry blue eyes. “Don’t you take the occasional bruise when you practice with your weapons?”

“No.” He snorted, but I could feel some tension leave his arm. “I am better than that.”

“Well, I’m not.” I shivered. “Forgive me.”

“Marcus. Leave us.” Marcus was out of the tent as fast as he had entered.

In no time, I was covered in the furs, warming up nicely. Keir lay beside me, on his side, head propped up with his hand. I yawned, trying to fight sleep, unsure of his expectations.

“You have no skill with weapons.” It was more statement then a question.

“You mean, like a warrior?” It seemed an odd question.

“You can not defend yourself.” His voice sounded odd.

I yawned again. “I can always run.”

He snorted. There was a pause as my eyelids got heavier.

“You are untouched.” His voice rumbled in my ear.

“I got bruised.” I argued.

“No,” he paused again. “I mean you are untouched. You have no children.”

I sucked in a breath, suddenly wide-awake. “I am an unmarried Daughter of the House of Xy.” I stared at the ceiling, and worried my lower lip. “I am…” I rolled my eyes and considered the absurdity of this conversation. It was hard to continue, but he waited patiently. I could feel his eyes on my face. “I was a candidate for a marriage of alliance. As such, I was… am…” The rest froze on my tongue.

“Untouched.” He looked at me through half-closed eyes, studying me like prey. “Ignorant.”

I blushed, then frowned. “I am a healer. A Master Healer. I am not ignorant. I have the knowledge. I just lack…”

“Experience.” He raised an arm and brushed a curl off my forehead.

I moved my head away from his hand, but a huge yawn overcame me again. “That’s right. Knowledge, but no experience.”

“Yet you heal. You see…”

I could feel the heat on my cheeks. “Yes, I know what men and women look like and I know what they do. I just haven’t…”

“This is your peoples’ way?”

“Yes.”

He sighed and rolled over onto his back. As I watched, he closed his eyes and sighed again. Without opening his eyes, he spoke. “Sleep, Warprize.”

I closed my eyes, wondering if I would ever hear my own name again.

I woke when something rumbled next to my ear.

There were voices, speaking softly. Keir was talking to someone. I wasn’t really interested in opening my eyes. It was so warm and I felt so boneless under the furs. It felt so good to just lie there.

The voices stopped and footsteps faded off. Keir spoke softly. “I must be up. Sleep awhile longer.” With that, he slid out, letting in cooler air, ignoring my mumbled protests. I crawled over into the warmth, trying very hard not to wake up. The splashing noises, and the scent of breakfast made that impossible.

Whatever was cooking smelled spicy. When my stomach made its opinion known, I sat up and let the furs pool around my waist as I adjusted my tunic, which had twisted in the night. I reached my arms up, twining them around each other and stretched, arching my back. When the bones in my back had realigned themselves I lowered my arms.

Keir was standing there, watching me.

He was naked from the waist up. Water still glistened on his face and neck.

He had the oddest look on his face.

I flushed and looked away. Once out from under the covers, I darted into the privy area. There was plenty of warm water left, and someone had left a change of clothes for me on one of the benches. I splashed through a wash as quick as I could.

When I emerged, Keir was already eating and Marcus was standing there, his arms crossed. He pointed to the other chair, and I sat quickly. Marcus fixed me with his eye and didn’t stop staring at me until I started eating. He gave me a last look and left the room.

Keir leaned back, a cup of kavage in his hands. “You wish to return to the healing tent?”

I nodded, my mouth full of some kind of porridge. He drank his kavage hot and bitter. I noticed that he did not add anything to it. “And check Simus, if I may.”

“I am calling senel at the nooning. I want you to be there.”

I nodded and wondered what a senel was.

Keir continued. “I am assigning two guards to be with you at all times.”

I choked on my food.

Marcus had come in with more bread. “Good,” he muttered, and left the room.

Keir held up a hand as I tried to clear my throat. “No arguments. I would have you protected, something you can not do for yourself.”

I sputtered. “I am not helpless.”

His eyes strayed to my upper arm. 1 flushed at the implication and opened my mouth to argue. He cut me off with a gesture. “If it is not acceptable, you may stay here, nap and let Marcus feed you.” I heard an exclamation from the other room.

I glowered at Keir.

He was impervious. “I have sent for the guards. They will be here shortly.” He finished his kavage and stood. I grabbed some bread and tore at it, trying not to watch as he strapped on his weapons.

Marcus came in and started to clear dishes. “It’s for the best, Warprize.” I glowered at my mug of kavage. “And yourself?”

“Simus and I need to talk,” Keir responded.

“The attacks on the horses.” Marcus’s tone was grim, and he muttered something under his breath.

“Aye.” Keir caught my questioning look. “Someone is shooting at the herds, killing horses. We believe they are your people.”

I opened my mouth to deny it, but closed it with a snap. Keir was watching me carefully, but he said nothing further. I finished my food in silence, as Keir armed himself, and Marcus fussed.

Sounds at the outer entrance let me know that my guards were coming, and I quickly started to peel the bark off the stump I was sitting on. Marcus demanded to know what I was doing, as Keir moved to greet the guards. I looked up to see Prest and Rafe standing there, grinning like fools. I smiled when I saw them. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Keir led the way, with Rafe and Prest flanking me. Marcus voice called out behind us. “Mind now, be here for the senel. With time to get cleaned up!”

Simus was not in the best of moods. “About time.” He grumped as we entered his tent. Rafe and Prest took up positions outside. “What about these attacks? Any sign it’s the damned city—”

Keir cleared his throat as I entered.

“Good morning, Warprize.” Joden greeted me with a twinkle in his eye. “Be warned that Simus has not yet had enough kavage to be human.”

Simus growled, and I almost laughed out loud. Who’d think a patient in a foul mood could be such a comfort? “I could come back later.” I offered.

“No!” Simus struggled up on his elbows, furious, then drew a deep breath when he realized I was teasing. A small smile crept over his face. “Good Morning, Warlord. Warprize.”

“Good morning, Simus of the Hawk.” Keir sat on one of the stumps off to the side. “Can’t say that I blame you for being in a foul mood.” He gestured toward the leg. “I’d not have the patience to endure.”

Simus glared at him. “Made all the harder when I get no word of what is happening—”

Keir held up a hand. “Let the warprize look at your leg.”

“You talk while she works.” Simus was pushing aside his blankets and furs, exposing his leg. Joden moved to help him, and I knelt along side.

“There were no attacks last night. Bolts were found in the horses that were slain. We will discuss our actions at the senel that I called for this nooning.”

Simus grunted. “Which of us uses crossbows? Even if we did, none of us would do such a thing.”

“I’ve decided to send Iften to the Xyian King, to inform him of the attacks and to get answers.”

“Iften?” Simus’s full attention was on Keir now. “Why Iften? Why not go yourself?”

I looked over my shoulder, curious as to what Keir’s response would be, only to find him giving me a veiled look. “I’ll not leave camp.”

“Ah, well. Maybe ‘tis best. Let him show his true—”

Keir cut him off. “Let the warprize finish her work and be on her way. You and I have much to discuss. Including Joden.”

I glanced at Joden, but his face was impassive. Simus was not so silent. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“No?”

“No.” Simus looked at Joden, then gave Keir a sly look. “Joden’s not the first to deny mercy to a friend. ” When Keir didn’t react, Simus grinned. “Joden and I will be at the senel.”

“Simus…” Joden was standing there frowning.

Simus glowered at his friend. “We will both be there.” He raised a hand to prevent Joden from saying anything further. I looked at both men’s faces. Joden was clearly unhappy, and Simus looked angry. I didn’t understand that at all, but Joden was uncomfortable. I cleared my throat and drew Simus’s attention. He shifted his gaze, focusing his dark eyes on me. “Well?”

“It looks well enough. But only a few steps.”

“Hah!” Simus brought his hand down into his fist. “You watch, little healer. I will dance out of this tent.”

I rolled my eyes. “I am sure. But just in case, let Prest and Rafe support you for the first few steps.” Simus grimaced, but was willing to put up with anything just to get a chance to walk, calling in my guards impatiently. Rafe and Prest supported him on each side as he rose from his bed and managed a few steps. Very quickly, he was grey and shaky from the effort. We got him back onto his pallet and Joden helped him get comfortable. Once that was taken care of I knelt and began to strip the bark of the stumps in his tent.

Simus coughed. “Warprize, what are you—”

I ignored him. “It’s a medicine.” I kept peeling. “I’ll use it to brew fever’s foe.”

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, great joy. I must confess, little one, that muck tastes terrible.”

Prest and Rafe left the tent, hands filled with bark. I moved to follow, with both hands full.

“I will see you at senel, little healer.” Simus called after me.

I turned, and brandished my bundle as if to admonish him. He raised his arms to ward off a blow. “I know, I know. They will carry me to the tent.” I smiled at him. I turned to find Keir in front of me.

He stepped in close, lifted my chin. “Be on time for senel.” Then he kissed me, hard and fast. I just looked up at him when he pulled back. With a smug look, he nudged me on my way.

As we moved away from the tent I looked over at Rafe. “What is a ‘senel’?”

He puzzled for a bit. “A gathering, a taking of advice from others, a…” He looked to Prest for help, but Prest just shrugged. Rafe rolled his eyes.

“Who will be there?”

‘The leaders, Keir’s…“ He screwed his face up. ”Secondaries? We call them warleaders.“ The morning sun caught the glint of metal off to the side. I turned my head to see a group of warriors in a large practice field. A tall woman was standing in the field, as a large horse raced toward her.

I stopped in my tracks. “What?”

Rafe chuckled. “Watch, Warprize.”

Prest was giving her a sharp eye, and grunted. I turned back to watch as the horse charged the woman. At the last moment, the horse brushed past her, and suddenly she seemed to leap into the saddle. There were shouts from the group watching as she swung the horse back toward them. She seemed pleased with her performance.

“How did she do that?” I asked.

“Practice,” said Prest.

Rafe nodded his agreement. I gave him a doubtful look as we continued walking. “No, its true, Warprize. We all practice our riding skills in the same fashion. Each is required to be able to mount a galloping horse.”

I sighed. “Rafe, you used my name in the city.”

Rafe nodded. “True. But you are now the warprize.”

Prest nodded in agreement.

At the healing tent all was well. It took almost no time to check the wounded, and take care of their needs. The worst was the one who’d been whipped, but he was still asleep, so I waited to check him. Instead, I started a pot of water boiling on one of the braziers and corralled one of the wounded into watching it. I was careful to explain that he had to add water as it boiled away. As I moved among the cots, the only problem was that I kept bumping into Prest and Rafe as they hovered over me. Finally, I turned to Prest.

“This is foolish. Go sit in a corner of the tent and watch me.” Rafe frowned and opened his mouth to protest. I snarled. “Take your big feet, and go over there out of my way.”

Prest laughed and pulled Rafe with him. They settled down off to the side. Soon, Rafe was working his sword with a whetstone. Prest appeared to be carving something from some wood. Some of the mobile wounded joined them, and they were laughing and talking quietly as I worked. But I noticed that one of them always had an eye on me.

I gathered up the boiled skunk cabbage and some clean cloths, and went to where the warrior lay sleeping on the cot. His back looked good under the bandage; the lash marks hadn’t been as deep as I feared, and there was very little redness or swelling. The warrior stirred as I started to work more of the ointment into his wounds. “I know it hurts, but it will aid with healing. Lay as still as you can.”

The warrior turned his head and looked at me with bleary eyes. “You a warrior-priest?”

Prest had moved up behind me with Rafe, who shook his head in disgust. “Sleeping on watch, Tant? When will you learn?” He crossed his arms over his chest. “When are you due back on?”

Tant blinked. “Nooning.” He glanced at me again. “Where’d the warrior-priest come from?”

“She’s the warprize,” Prest responded.

Tant jerked, his eyes wide.

“Fool.” Rafe turned. “Finish your work, Warprize. I’ll get kavage so we can get him on his feet. If he doesn’t report, its another lashing.”

“The warprize?” Tant’s voice was a squeak.

Finally, I had time to sit down and look at the supplies that were available to me. I sorted through the tables and baskets. It was pitiful. There were few herbs and none of the traditional remedies that I knew. One bottle smelled so vile that I asked one of the wounded what it was for. Turned out it was a well known remedy for coughs that was rubbed on the chest. It was made from goose grease and horse dung.

He offered to help me gather the makings. I declined, emptied the bottle and set it to soak.

A scream in the distance caught all of us by surprise. Rafe and Prest stood and moved to the tent entrance. I followed, emerging to find them gazing out at the practice field. I could just make out a crowd around a downed figure. There was all kinds of general ruckus, but no further screams.

Prest was sucking on his lower lip. Rafe looked gray. “I’ll wager it’s broken.”

Prest nodded his head. Both men looked grim. I looked, but could see no one moving to render aid. “ Will they bring them here?”

Rafe turned in surprise, his eyebrows raised. “Why? Most like they’ll just grant mercy where they lay.” I looked at him, offended, and started off immediately toward the crowd. Prest and Rafe scrambled after me. “Warprize, where are you going?”

I ignored Rafe, and kept moving onto the practice ground and right up to the milling group. They were certainly upset, so much so that I had to push my way forward to get through.

I dropped down next to the wailing figure. It was a woman, the blonde who had leaped to her horse. She lay on the ground, her hands over her face, moaning. I cast a quick look at the leg, but could tell nothing through the leather trous. “Rafe, lend me your knife.”

Silence cut through the crowd. The blonde gasped in horror and moved her hands. Even though her face was red and swollen, I recognized her. It was the woman who had grabbed my arm. Her eyes filled with fear, she covered her face again and started to wail.

Rafe slowly handed me his knife. “You’ll take the leg, Warprize?”

At the question, the blonde threw her hands forward, as if to ward me off. Her face was filled with horror. “No, Skies, NO!” she shrieked. “I am cursed!” She keened in an ear-piercing tone.

I winced at the sound as I cut away her trous. It was clear that it was broken, but the skin was whole. It looked to be a clean break. The woman shrieked again as I touched her knee.

“Stop that! Are you such a coward?” The blonde looked at me, frozen but thankfully silent.

I gestured to Rafe. “We need a blanket to carry her to the tent.”

“No, no, no.” The blonde sobbed. “I cry mercy, rather than lose my leg. Mercy!”

I looked at her. “Silence!”

That got everyone’s attention.

“Have I said that you will lose it? Love of the Goddess!” I cursed in my own language. “You’d rather die then let me heal this?”

Prest was standing behind me. “Heal?” The blonde’s brown eyes stared at me from her tear-stained face.

I turned my head and looked up at him. “Yes, of course.” From the expressions of those around us, I realized that there was no ‘of course’ about this for them. “A blanket. Now.”

Prest nodded and one of the men ran off.

I placed a hand on her shoulder. “Lay back. Try to relax. I know it hurts, but I need you to stay still.”

She grabbed at my arm, her sweaty palms trembling. “I won’t lose it?”

“Not if you do what I say.” I looked up again and focused on the closest man. “I need rawhide. One large piece and then strips. Can you get that?”

He nodded and ran off. I raised my voice to be heard. “I need rocks as well. Good sized, about the size of two fists.” Two other men ran towards the river. “At least four,” I called after them.

The first man returned with a large blanket in his arms. We managed to get it under her and hefted her up without jostling the leg too much. I urged them to go slow and careful as we carried her to the healing tent. Once there, I directed them to put her on an empty cot and started to strip her trous off. Looking up, I realized that the entire group was in the tent, all of them, watching me work. “Out.”

“But…” Rafe objected.

“Rafe, you and Prest stay. The others leave.”

“They want to watch, Warprize. Please.”

I frowned. “Then roll up the sides of the tent, but have them stay out of the way.” I continued to remove the trous. The blonde bit at her lip as I worked.

“What is your name?” I asked, trying to get her to focus on something else.

“Atira. Warprize, I am cursed, I know it. I am cursed. The elements…” She sobbed. “Because I hurt you.”

“Hush, Atira. It’s a broken leg, not a curse. An accident.”

The other men entered, with about twenty more rocks then I really needed and lengths of rawhide. Gils popped up out of nowhere, and I had him cutting strips and wrapping the rocks so that I could use them as weights. I put Rafe and Prest at Atira’s head and went to the end of the cot. I called over a tall, husky type and had him stand next to me. Atira was big, and I would need help setting the leg. I explained what we were going to do. The silence in the tent was absolute. I ignored the looks and the whispers, but it was unnerving. Everyone was fascinated by what I was doing. For a moment doubt crept in. What if I couldn’t heal it? It was a clean break, but there were no promises with legs, and if the patient didn’t obey me, it could end up healing crooked or…

Eln would have boiled me over a hot fire. I pulled myself back and focused on my work. The future belongs only to the Goddess, I’d have to leave it in her hands.

Once I was sure that everyone understood, we got ready. The two men braced Atira’s shoulders, and she grabbed them, wrapping her arms around their hips. The other man took her foot gently in his hand and waited. I reached over and handed her a piece of willow bark to put between her teeth. “All right, Atira. Ten deep breaths, then we begin.”

She nodded, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. Then another. On her third breath, I grabbed her ankle with my helper and we pulled hard on her leg.

She exploded off the cot, her cries muffled by the bark. The men held her in place. My helper maintained the pull as I ran my hands over her leg. They kept the tension steady, increasing the pull until I felt the bone go together under my finger tips, and heard the familiar grating noise. Once it was in position, I secured the splints, and tied it off. I tried to move swiftly.

When the splints were in place I nodded, and they eased off the pressure. I concentrated on feeling the bone under the muscle. It felt right. They kept the foot elevated, as I wrapped the limb with a layer of soft bandages and then placed the wet rawhide over it. That was well secured with straps of leather, and we finally lay the leg back down on the cot. Atira was pale by now, and I deeply wished for a sleeping draught to give her. I tied the rocks and strips of rawhide to her ankle, hanging them over the edge of the cot. The pull would aid in keeping the leg straight.

I finally sat back on my haunches and wiped the sweat off my forehead. Atira looked at me, wide-eyed. “You lied!”

I looked at her in surprise. “I did?”

“You said ‘ten breaths’.” She glared at me.

I maintained my expression for as long as I could, then grinned at her. She was starting to relax and was fighting sleep. “My leg, Warprize?”

“Atira, it is a simple break. We will be careful, and go slow, but all should be well.” I smiled at her doubting face.

“How long, Warprize?”

“It will take forty days to heal completely, Atira.”

“Forty days?” Gils looked at me with horror in his eyes. “Forty days in this cot?”

“No, not forty days in the cot. Forty days to heal completely. She’ll be able to use a crutch but that will be at least half of that. You can’t risk putting weight on it before then.”

“I will keep it.” Atira’s voice held awe. The men standing around remained silent, exchanging glances.

“You must lay still, as still as possible. It will mend. It will take time, bone is slow to grow. You must be patient.”

One of the men let out a nervous laugh. “That will be hard for her. She is not the most patient of women!”

The resulting laugh released some of the tension in the tent. But everyone, the men, the wounded, Prest and Rafe, all had the oddest look on their faces. Her friends handed Atira her weapons, and to my horror, she placed them on and under the bedding well within reach.

“You’ll get hurt!” I didn’t like the idea of sharp blades so near her skin.

Atira shook her head. “Couldn’t sleep without them.” She arranged things to her satisfaction, then settled back. I knew she’d sleep. I gestured to everyone to clear out, and they moved quietly, talking amongst themselves.

Gils lingered by the table with my meager supplies. “Warprize?”

I smiled, trying to encourage him. He sat on one of the other stumps, his knees almost up to his chin. “It’s forty days?”

“Yes, for the bone to heal. Then she will need to exercise the leg to regain its strength.”

He leaned forward, intent on my answers. “You won’t cast spells to make the healing go faster?”

“No.” I smiled. “I can’t force the body to heal any faster. I merely make sure that the leg stays straight as it grows back together. There are some salves that I can make to heal the bruising, keep the skin supple and ease some of the pain, but that is all I can do. Time takes care of the rest.”

Gils looked at me. “You can heal everything?”

I shook my head, ruefully, remembering the blood that had welled up through my fingers just days ago. “ No, Gils. There are some things I can’t heal.”

Gils watched me closely. “How did you learn this, Warprize?”

“My name is Lara.”

He looked at me as if I was out of my mind.

I sighed. “I was apprenticed to a healer who agreed to teach me for my services.” I smiled as I remembered the fuss that had caused. Eln had been nonplused by a Daughter of the Blood wanting to be a healer. Father had been incensed. I looked away for a moment, blinking hard. Three years, and I still missed him.

“What’s ‘apprentice’?”

I gave Gils a stern look. “Won’t you be missed in the kitchens?”

He grinned. “I’s say you needed help. And I’s did help.” He looked at me defensively.

“True.” I chuckled. “Well then—” I spoke softly as I explained how the process worked. Gils was filled with all kinds of questions that spilled out of him like beans from a jar. He was older than the healing apprentices that I had worked with, but his curiosity was just as strong. We were deep in conversation when Rafe clapped his hand to his forehead. “The senel!”

With that, I was hustled back to the tent. Marcus was waiting, and rushed me past Keir and into the privy area. There was warm water waiting. Marcus fussed about my tunic and trous, but satisfied himself with brushing me off. I ignored him and washed quickly. I could hear Rafe talking to Keir as I piled my hair up in a knot on my head.

Keir was waiting when I re-entered the sleeping area. I could hear the main area of the tent filling with people. He gestured me to his side. “I understand that you have a new patient in your tent.”

I nodded. “One of the warriors broke her leg. It was a clean break.”

He had a very slight smile on his face. “You healed it?”

I shook my head. “I set the bone. Bone healing takes time.”

“It will heal? She will use the leg again?”

“Yes.”

Marcus had moved to stand by the tent flap. Keir looked at him. “This should prove to be an interesting senel.”

Marcus’s lips twisted. “Aye to that. Ready?”

Keir nodded.

Marcus stepped to the table and picked up something that was decorated with feathers and beads and a small string of copper bells. He moved through the tent flap first, and called everyone to attention. “Rise and hail Keir, Warlord of the Tribes and the warprize.” Keir went first, and I followed.

The meeting area was filled with men and women, all standing about the room. There was a path down the middle to the raised platform, where two stumps sat slightly off center. Keir moved forward to stand before the stump closest to the center and faced the room. He gestured for me to be seated to his right.

Marcus had followed us and moved to place the thing in his hands on an empty stump in the center of the room. I got the impression that the stump had been placed there for that purpose.

“Where is Simus?” Keir asked.

As if at his command, the flaps of the main entrance opened, and there was a commotion as Simus was borne aloft on a cot by four men, like the roast pig at the mid-winter festival. I had to smile, and saw that others in the crowd were not immune to the humor of the image.

“Make way!” Simus boomed out, his voice filled with laughter. “Make way!” He grinned like a fool, white teeth gleaming in his dark face, carried aloft over everyone’s head, propped up with brightly colored pillows. But his joy changed to a yell of panic when one of his bearers stumbled slightly. This caused an outbreak of laughter in the crowd, as Simus berated his bearers for their clumsiness.

Finally, Simus was settled next to Keir on his left. Once that was done, Keir looked at me, and I sat down. Keir sat, and the crowd followed after.

Keir spoke as they settled down. “I have called senel, to speak of events, to hear your views, and to make my decisions. Let us eat as we talk.”

Marcus and three others started to pass through the crowd with pitchers and wooden bowls. I noticed that one was Gils, who carried his pitcher with extra care. Each person held out their hands and washed in turn as water was poured over their hands. Each uttered soft words that I couldn’t hear.

Marcus served Simus and then moved to stand before me. It surprised me, since I had washed moments ago. He glared when I did not hold out my hands. Feeling awkward I leaned forward slightly and whispered to him. “Marcus, I don’t know what to say.”

“Say?” Marcus darted a glance at Keir, who was talking to Simus, and then focused back on me. “You give thanks, Warprize. You say what you wish.” He kept his voice down, and drew no attention to us.

With relief, I held out my hands and thanked the Goddess as the water was poured. Keir was the last to wash, and as soon as he was done, food and drink were served.

There weren’t as many people as I’d first thought. I counted heads and came up with ten people seated before us, spread out so that each could rest his plate and cup on a nearby stool. An equal number of men and women, all veterans by the look of them.

As soon as everyone had food in hand, Keir started asking questions concerning the status of the army, the camp, and the herds. The talk was casual, with each individual joining in with no regard to status or degree. It was clear that they felt free to talk, expressing opinions, and not hesitating to discuss the bad as well as the good.

I listened, interested in the discussion, comparing it to what I knew of my father’s councils. The talk here seemed free, easy. Unlike the Court, where every statement seemed to hold hidden meanings.

A cough interrupted my thoughts. Marcus was standing next to me. His eye caught mine, flashed down to look at my untouched plate, then back up to my face.

I started eating.

A tall, thin woman with short, curly brown hair was speaking. “We’ve three injured horses and five dead, Warlord. Crossbow bolts, shot from cover.” She scowled.

“They attacked in the darkness and fled before the herders could react.”

“What do you need, Aret?” Keir asked.

“More watchers spread about the herds,” she responded quickly. “Since the attacks come from cover, maybe a squad to patrol the tree line.”

“Doubt they’ll use the same move twice,” Simus offered.

“Not the first time an enemy’s made mistakes,” a man with darker brown hair and a crooked nose replied. “Let me take some archers into the trees. We’ll set them up high and let them wait out the night. With starlight, we’ll spot them first and that will end it.”

Aret nodded. “I like that, Yers. But you may have a long night of waiting.”

“Me? Not so.” Yers grinned. “I’ll send the young ones, full of enthusiasm and energy. It’ll teach them patience.” That drew chuckles.

“This morning I sent Iften to speak to the Xyian King about these attacks. Iften, tell us what you learned.”

It was the blond I’d encountered in Simus’s tent. He rose from his seat near the center of the room, a smug look on his face. “I went into the city with an escort and demanded speech with the defeated king.”

Simus guffawed. “That attitude made your welcome sure.”

Iften didn’t look at Simus. “I gave him the courtesy that the Warlord bade me. Not that he deserved it.”

Keir frowned, and Iften continued hurriedly. “I told him of the attacks, and he denied knowledge of them, and also denied that his people would do such a thing.” Iften turned slightly, as if addressing the room, rather than reporting to Keir. Behind me, Marcus muttered something under his breath. “I told this city-dweller that to murder a horse is to murder a child, and that swift and deadly punishment would fall on any who so dared. The defeated king said that he would investigate the matter.” Iften’s disdain was clear.

“What was his manner?” Keir’s voice was soft.

“As one who brushes aside a fly,” Iften snarled. “I told him to report to you and he said that would be done.”

Keir sat quiet as the room stirred about us. I half expected an explosion of temper from him, but none came. “Aret, set the extra watchers. Yers, your idea is a good one, but I want patrols as well. You and Aret decide the placement and timing.”

Aret seemed well satisfied, as did Yers. Iften, as if realizing Keir was done with him, moved to sit down with a disgruntled look.

“Iften.” Keir’s voice carried over the heads of everyone present.

“Warlord?” Iften stopped and rose to his full height.

“Have a care, Iften, for Xymund is my defeated king, and you will offer him respect or answer to me.”

Everyone fell silent, and seemed to study their kavage closely. Iften gave Keir a nod, then settled back on to his stool. I noticed that the disgruntled look had become more pronounced.

“Sal?” Keir turned to an older, grey-haired woman. “Supplies?”

They launched into a discussion of food and gear, and I was stunned to learn that the Warlord’s army was paying for supplies. While the conversation had moved on, clearly Iften remained unhappy. But I had other concerns. There was such a need for medicines and the like, but I didn’t know my place at this meeting. I felt more prize than participant. The Warlord had a temper, that much was clear, one that flared fast and hot. I shuddered inside, remembering his fury at the sight of a few bruises. How angry would he be if I spoke out now?

Keir finally sat back, and handed his empty plate to Marcus. “We’ve covered the concerns I had. Before I speak as to my plans, is there anything else?” The other servers were passing though the room with fresh kavage. Marcus was leaning over to get my plate when-he stiffened. I looked around him to see a man step forward, and pick up the bundle from the stool in the center of the room.

“Wesren?” Keir’s voice held a questioning tone.

He was a short, stocky man with thick black hair and beard. “I hold your token, Warlord. I give voice to one truth.”

Marcus moved back beside me, handing off the plates to another server. His eye was firmly fixed on the speaking man.

“You’ve said there’s to be no releases from regular duties, or leave of camp.” Wesren drew a quick breath. “Been some time since that’s been granted, and that’s passing hard, Warlord.” He shifted, uneasy under Keir’s stare.

Keir paused for a long drink of kavage, looking at the man over the rim of his cup. “Any further truths to voice?”

Wesren stood, holding the token. “No, Warlord.”

“You felt the need to hold my token for this?”

Wesren stiffened. His movement jangling the bells of the token. “Ways are changing under your hand, Warlord. Felt the need to be careful.” Keir’s gaze never wavered and Wesren shifted his weight again, his eyes darting about the room as if looking for support.

Keir put him out of his misery. “I will speak to your truths.”

Wesren nodded, placed the token back on its stool, and returned to his seat.

“Although it appears that we have won, still I have doubts about this peace.”

I jerked, alarmed at his words. If he noticed, Keir did not react. “This peace calls for their king to acknowledge me as Warlord of this land. His oath has been given, yet out horses are attacked in the night. Until I am satisfied of his obedience and our safety, we will remain on alert and on guard, as if in enemy lands.” Keir held up a hand to control reactions, since the decision was not popular. “Besides, I remind you that their ways are not our ways. Before our peoples intermingle, we need to make sure that there is understanding. For example, Xyian women do not lay with men until they are bonded.” That set them all aback, and every eye focused on me. The expressions ran the gauntlet from pity to amazement to mirth. I flushed at the attention, and focused on my shoes.

“To prevent problems, everyone remains in camp.” Keir emphasized his order.

“What of a pattern dance, Warlord?” Simus flashed his grin. “That would work off excess energy.”

That was met with laughter and smiles. Keir laughed as well. “Good idea. What say you, Wesren?”

“We’d all enjoy a good pattern, Warlord.”

“Announce it then, for two days hence. Plenty of time to weave new patterns.” Keir stood and stretched. “If there are no further—”

“I hold your token, Warlord.”

Conversation stopped. Iften was standing with the bundle in his hand. I caught Keir and Simus exchanging a glance as Keir sat back down. Iften lifted the item in his hand and shook it slightly so the bells chimed.

“I give voice to two truths. Joden remains unpunished for his violation of our ways.”

There was a stir at this statement.

“The other truth?” Keir’s voice was very non-committal.

“That your attempts to rescue Simus by going into the city alone were reckless, and showed disregard for this army and your responsibilities.”

My mouth dropped open. A statement like that would have Xymund calling for executioners. Keir merely sat up a bit straighter on his stool. “Any further truths to voice?”

Iften stood, holding the token. “No.”

“I will speak to your truths.” Iften nodded, placed the token back on its stool, and returned to his seat. “ Before I speak to these truths, I would tell you that a rider fell in practice this morning, breaking her leg.”

The overall reaction was one of dismay. One voice rose from the back. “Her name?”

Keir responded. “I do not know. We will ask it of the warprize, who saw the incident, had the warrior taken to the healing tent, and healed the leg.”

All eyes focused on me. I swallowed my food. “Her name is Atira.” There was a general murmuring at that. I darted a quick glance at Keir. “But the leg is not yet healed. Bone healing takes time.”

One woman leaned forward on her stool. “You have done this before? Healed a broken limb?”

I looked at her. “Yes.”

Talk swelled, but Keir spoke over it. “I acknowledge the truth that Joden’s actions were not of our tradition. I leave it to Simus as to what punishment there should be for the man who failed to grant him mercy in the face of capture. However, I voice the truth that had he followed our tradition, there would be no warprize.” He looked at me, a pleased expression on his face. “I think you all begin to see what I see.”

I shifted on the stool, uneasy as the object of attention.

Keir focused back on the group. “I answer to the other truth that has been raised.” He grinned ruefully. “I acknowledge the recklessness of my action. When have I not acted so?” Laughter met that statement. “I’ ll consider the truth that I had no regard for my men and my responsibilities.” I could see Iften scowling, less than satisfied. But Keir was not finished. “But do not think to turn me into a fat king that directs his men from a tower.” There was another burst of laughter at that, and from the sly looks in my direction, I had a feeling they were talking about Xymund.

Keir gestured, holding his hands up, palms flat. “Who can say what caused Joden to stay his hand. I can not. I have spoken to these truths, and I thank Iften for his truths.”

Simus raised his hand. “Warlord, I would speak to this truth. I would speak as to Joden’s punishment.”

Keir turned a bit, so he could see Simus. “Speak, Simus.”

Simus’s voice carried far, yet he seemed to make no special effort. “The Warlord has left to me to determine the punishment for Joden, who has violated our tradition. I say, how is one to punish the man who saved his life?” Simus shifted a bit on his pillows. “But tradition has been broken and punishment there must be. Summon Joden to stand before me.”

Joden stepped in to the tent, as if he had been waiting just outside. He looked anxious, but his step was firm, and he stood with an easy confidence. “I am here.”

Simus’s teeth gleamed as he smiled. “As I have done privately, so I now do publicly. I thank you, Joden, for the gift of my life.”

Joden smiled back, his round face made rounder so.

“Now, as to punishment. As you all know, Joden is a singer. Not yet a Singer of the Tribes, but singer none the less. So, hear now the punishment I would impose. Joden must sing of his decision on the field of battle.”

There was a stirring at this, but I couldn’t tell what their reaction was. Simus waited for a bit, then continued, “Now, the words of a singer can not be forced or dictated. That too is tradition. So I say to Joden, do you accept this punishment? Will you sing of this for all the Plains to hear?” More murmurs, more reaction. I was getting the idea that the offense and the punishment were so unusual that no one was sure how to react.

Joden nodded. “I accept the punishment. I will sing of this.”

“So be it.” Simus leaned back on his pillows and waved his cup in the air. “Bring me and Joden kavage, Marcus. This is punishing work.” There were groans at that, and Simus laughed as Joden took a stool. “I have spoken to this truth. I thank you, Warlord.”

Keir lifted a mug. “The sky favors the bold.” Other mugs were lifted in response. As they were lowered, Keir caught Iften’s eye. “I thank you for your truths, Iften.”

Marcus moved to offer more kavage to him and Simus as the rest of the room talked among themselves as if nothing had happened. Under its cover, Simus leaned over. “That one grows brazen.”

Keir made some response, but I did not hear it. My eyes were drawn to the bundle, the token, there on its stool. Maybe I could use its protections to ask for medicines and supplies. Without further thought I slipped off my stool, and moved toward the token. It was almost in my grasp when my wrist was caught and jerked back. I gasped, and shrank back from Keir, his face contorted in rage.