Warsworn

Chapter 12

What I found was understanding and love in those bright blue eyes.

I broke into fresh sobs, and threw myself into his arms. Keir drew me close, pulling me to his chest with strong arms and allowing me to cling like a child. As I wept, he rocked me, drumming my back gently with his hand, which made me cry that much harder.

“I’m so sorry, so sorry…” I snuffled my nose, and tried to breathe but I could only gasp out the words. “It’s all my fault that—”

“Hush.” Keir stroked my back even as he pulled his cloak around us. The warmth of his body enfolded me and I sagged into his strength, continuing to cry.

Keir held me for long moments, then pulled away, step-ping to the tent entrance. He closed it again, entwining more privacy bells into the ties. He returned to my side, coaxed me down to the pallet, and proceeded to wrap us in blankets, covering us with his cloak. With soft, comforting sounds, he arranged us so I was cradled in his grasp, supported by arms and legs. The bedding started to warm around us, and I finally caught my breath. He wiped the tears from my face with his hands. I lay silent, within his protection, and felt my body loosen and relax against his.

I breathed deep, taking in the scents of the stilltent, and the spicy smell of his skin. The warmth of his body was a comfort and I let him support me, feeling my bones melt under his touch. He murmured something about the elements, but what he said didn’t matter. What meant more was his touch, his strength, his love, all pouring into me without a single word. Just the sound of his heart beating under my ear, and the feel of his breath on my skin was enough.

His fingers started to work their way through my hair, gently carding out the snarls and tangles.

“You broke the bells.” I kept my face buried in the blankets as he continued to stroke my hair.

“I did.”

“Isn’t that rude?” My breath hitched as I knotted my fists in the blankets.

“Yes.” His voice was the barest whisper. “But I’ll let nothing stand between me and my Warprize.”

Another sob escaped me. His hands shifted and he rubbed my back, soothing me. I lay silent, trying to collect my scattered wits. I could hear the faint sounds of the camp around us, but I didn’t care. Didn’t want to care. I was so tired.

“Talk to me, Lara.” Keir’s voice was deep and soothing and brought fresh tears to my eyes. I let them come, not trying to suppress my sorrow.

“It’s all so horrible, the sickness, so many dead and Epor, oh Keir—” I gasped for breath, and pulled my head back to look him in the eyes. “Isdra’s pain is so deep. And Gils, he was just a child, he tried so hard and he’s—” I couldn’t finish the sentence. “I keep seeing him convulse, and the dagger—” I wailed, burying my face in his tunic. “Goddess help me, and so much worse, I bed to you, Keir. I didn’t tell—”

His fingers covered my lips and I cried until I was exhausted, so tired, my head pounding, my nose so clogged I couldn’t breathe. His leather armor was smooth under my cheek, and I was sure I was getting it messy with my blubbering. Keir seemed not to care, but I did. I forced my head up, trying to ease out of comfort I had no right to. “It’s all my fault, Keir.”

He didn’t let me out of his arms. His long arm snaked out of our cocoon and grabbed up a clean cloth. He held it out to me. “Blow.”

I obeyed, and used the cloth to clean my face and wipe my eyes. He tossed it off to the side and brought his arm back into the warmth to hold me. His breath was sweet and warm on my cheek. The ache in my heart eased slightly, within the shelter of the bedding.

“So.” His voice was a soft whisper. “You are responsible for all? The illness? The deaths?”

I closed my eyes and nodded.

“How so?”

I opened my eyes, to look into the calm blue of his. “I shouldn’t have insisted that I enter the village. Shouldn’t have lied to you about the waiting period.” I swallowed hard, and forced the truth out. “Shouldn’t have thought I could deal with the plague on my own.”

He shifted then, arranging us so that he was on his back, allowing me to curl at his side. Once we were settled again, he sighed. “You are not the only warrior to take on overwhelming odds.”

I lay my head on his chest.

“Maybe you are right, Lara. On the other hand, maybe the enemy was among us, silent and invisible even as we argued over what actions to take. The wind blows, and no one can hinder it or dictate its path. If I had overruled you… if we had sent messages back and continued on, we may have taken the enemy into the Plains… who can say?”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Such slight shoulders to take on the weight of all our sorrows.” Keir paused for a moment. “Think on this. What would have happened had you not been here, and we’d no warning, no lessons in illness? If Gils had not listened and learned so well?”

I thought for a moment, then answered honestly. “I don’t know.”

“That is the hardest truth of all, Lara. That we do not know what might have been or what could have been. We only know what is.” His arms tightened slightly. “I say to you this truth—that all our actions, all of them, led us to this place and no one person bears the blame.”

“Joden and Iften blame—”

“Iften would name the grass red if I called it green.” Keir heaved a sigh. “Joden has come to me in honor and spoken his truths. He is a man that I respect and I must hear him and consider his words carefully. He must make his own decisions and come to his own conclusions.”

I rubbed my gritty eyes, and lay my head back down on his chest. “I don’t understand, Keir. How can Joden support Iften?”

Keir snorted. “Joden does not support Iften, Lara. Joden opposes me. There is a difference.”

“There is?”

Keir’s hand caressed my hair again, long, slow strokes. “Iften tries to undermine my authority, working in the darkness to turn my warleaders and my army against me. He treads a fine line, trying to provoke me into something stupid. Joden’s opposition is honest and true, in the open for the skies to see.”

I drew a breath. “Xymund would have killed Iften.”

That brought a chuckle from my Warlord. “Your brother did not listen to the counsels of men of wisdom. He listened only to those who agreed with him. A fatal flaw in a leader. We of the Plains do not silence our opponents, for they keep us strong. It is the stone against the blade that hones the edge. A good leader does not silence those in opposition; they listen and consider. Sometimes they are right, yes?” Keir settled himself a bit more comfortably in our bed. “Joden will tell me his truths and I will listen.”

“Keir—”

“I am disappointed that you hid the truth from me, before you entered the village.”

My breath hitched in muted sobs, my tears returned, and I raised my head to look at him, opening my mouth to respond. But Keir shook his head, stopping my words. “I am also disappointed in myself—that you thought it necessary. That is my failure.”

He drew me in closer, and pressed my head to his shoulder. “Your brother’s lies almost destroyed us, but we won through together. We will work our way though this as well. Although I confess that I did not think you one to manipulate people in such a way.”

My throat was tight, but I managed a whisper. “I thought I was doing what was best.”

“For our people, perhaps. But not for us. For what lies between us.” Keir sighed, hugging me tight. “Marcus warned me of this. Told me that bonding was harder than I realized, more effort than ‘throwing a woman over your shoulder and claiming her’.”

I nodded. “Epor said the same. He told me that you were ‘due my first thought’. Keir,” I strained my voice, trying to convince him with all of my heart, “I promise I will nev—”

“No.” Keir shook his head. “Trust is not so easy to mend. It will take time and deeds on both our parts, eh?”

I hugged him, nodding my head. My sorrow was still there, but there was a spark of hope as well.

“Let us pledge that we will have faith in each other.” Keir continued. “That will see us through.”

“Oh yes, my Keir.” I kissed him softly, and nuzzled his ear. He lifted my hand to his lips and kissed my palm. Wrapped in those blankets, both of us fully clothed, I some how felt more intimate with him than if we’d been naked. “I could stay like this forever.” I whispered.

“So could I.” He whispered back. “Sometimes, I think of us taking two horses and riding away, as far and as fast as we can.”

Surprised, I studied his face. He returned the look steadily. “We could run, Lara. Far and fast and free, with only the skies as a witness. We’d have each other, no worries beyond our own needs, no burdens, no—”

“No Iftens?”

“No Iftens.” He growled. “It would be perfect.”

“It would be.”

He heaved a sigh, and we lay in silence for some time, until I shifted slightly and spoke into his ear. “But that is not who you are, Keir of the Cat, Warlord of the Plains.”

I felt his head move, nodding his agreement. “It is not who you are either, Xylara, Daughter of Xy and Master Healer.”

I nodded, but stayed silent.

“Now, Marcus will be worried.” Keir smiled ruefully. “If I could, I would rise from this pallet, sweep you up and carry you to the command tent. But I fear that if I try, I will fall and take you with me.”

I smiled through my tears. “Let us lean on each other, then.”

From what I could tell, ‘purification’ was just another way of saying ‘clean everything’. Everything in camp was cleaned to even Anna’s exacting standards. Tents were shifted to new ground, and even the horses were washed. If it couldn’t be washed or boiled, it was burnished or polished, until the entire camp glowed. Braziers were set up at central points, and something called star-grass was burned to cleanse the air and the spirits. It made me sneeze.

This took a great deal of time and effort. At first the warriors moved slowly, almost all recovering from the illness. But as days passed, their strength and spirits started to rebuild. Keir reached the point where he could walk through his warriors again, and it wasn’t long before he was moving about with his old confidence.

Meara too, made an enormous difference in the camp.

She of the melting brown eyes and dark lashes, had each and every warrior wrapped around her little finger. I didn’t see much of her, as she was being passed from warrior to warrior, each acting as thea for a part of the day. At first I was concerned, but when I made a point of checking on her regularly, she was always smiling, waving her arms and legs in the air from her basket. She thrived and her presence raised the spirits of everyone around her. After the purification, almost everyone had regained their normal strength, but the planned contests had everyone pushing harder to get into the best condition possible. The camp rang with the sound of sparring weapons clashing, and the grunts of fighting warriors. Keir participated as well, claiming the need for practice. But as far as I could see, he was in excellent condition. I loved to watch him in the practice circles, as graceful as the cat he was named for. He seemed to enjoy that I watched him every chance I got, and yet all was not the same between us. Although he seemed fully recovered, Keir had made no move to resume our … physical relationship. I wasn’t too worried, since he was still mending, and yet…

The other sound that rang through the camp was the constant sound of warriors announcing their chess moves to one another. Everyone was determined to enter the tourney and win the honor of champion. I had quite a few visitors to my stilltent, with vague complaints of stomach troubles and sly questions about chess strategies. I cheerfully answered their inquiries, dosed them with my worst-smelling, foulest-tasting flux remedy and sent them on their way.

There were very few repeat visitors.

More letters arrived from Water’s Fall, with reassur-ances of the conditions in the city. Othur continued to complain of Simus’s behavior, but now he mentioned additional problems with the Lords, including some border disputes that he felt would never be resolved without bloodshed. Which told me that things were fairly normal within the Kingdom of Xy.

Simus demanded, rather loudly in his missives, that we give him all the details of events and that more kavage be sent. He also gave some rather pithy details of his sexual adventures. I could barely contain my laughter at the sight of the scribe’s handwriting. I was certain sure that the poor man had nearly fainted during the ‘dictation’.

I was pleased to read Eln’s letter that Atira’s broken leg was mending, and that she had demonstrated the ‘drumming’ technique for him. He’d used it successfully on his patients, and had been pleased with the results. Of course, he was still searching for an herbal cure to combat what he called the Savage Sweat, but he’d no new patients to try it on. I sensed a degree of regret in his words, but I sent up a brief prayer of thanks to the Goddess for the lack. Both Othur and Eln told me not to return to Water’s Fall. There was nothing I could do to make a difference there, and my Council wanted me to secure my position on the Plains.

Keir called an evening senel to discuss the combats and the chess tourney. This one was far more comfortable, with the warleaders more relaxed. Even these experienced warriors had succumbed to the lure of chess, and I could hear a few muttered moves being exchanged as they entered the tent. Ortis had the gleeful look of a man who’d just achieved a checkmate.

Marcus had help with the serving, and was determined to do well by this meeting. There was kavage and fry bread and mutton stew with gurt melted over the tops of the bowls. The stew was good, but I discreetly pushed the melted gurt off to the side.

Once everyone had eaten their fill, more kavage was poured and Keir opened by asking for suggestions for the combats. Elimination rounds were quickly organized and a schedule set up so that everyone could watch some portion. It was embarrassing that guarding me was a coveted position, but I could see that this was important to everyone’s spirits so I endured in silence.

Sal was there, looking much better. Her recovery was going well. Tsor had lost quite a bit of flesh, as the fever had burned it off of him. Marcus gave him two servings of stew with extra gurt, which he quickly devoured.

Iften was present, as was required. I noticed that he was eating with his offhand. He was acting as if all was well, but he couldn’t fool me. He’d worn a long sleeved tunic, with leather bracers on his forearms. While he managed to avoid my gaze, I could tell that the fingers were swollen. Goddess only knew what the arm looked like. He’d been fairly quiet of late, and spoke only when Keir asked him a direct question. Keir was instructing Yers to supervise the combats, and while there were a few side glances at Iften, no one made any comment.

I stared down at my plate. What would happen to Iften if his arm didn’t heal? I glanced over to where Marcus was pouring kavage for Keir. Marcus’s injury was not crippling as I defined it, even if the loss of his eye meant he couldn’t fight. He’d certainly proved his worth when he’d saved me from my half-brother’s blade. But his position was only secured by Keir’s support. If Iften’s sword arm went numb, and his fingers curled into a useless claw, what would he do? Kill himself?

I took a bite, and chewed thoughtfully.

Keir looked over at me with a smile. “Once the combats are done, and a new guard selected, we will start the chess tourney. This too, will be stretched over a period of days.”

Aret stood. “Warlord, I have a suggestion.”

“Speak.”

“These games will not be easily seen by a large number of people. I propose a living chess board, with warriors taking the roles of the various pieces. So all may see and enjoy, even at a distance.”

There were many grins at the plan, and Keir nodded in approval. “I like that well, Aret. In fact, once we are down to eight players on the field of wood, let us begin the living boards. Aret, it’s your idea. You may direct it as you will.”

Aret grinned.

Keir drew a deep breath. “Our dead ride with us until the snows, but the living carry burdens of pain and sorrow. As the day of our departure grows closer, I would call for a mourning ceremony, for we have much to grieve. Joden, I would ask that you plan the ceremony, and sing for our dead.”

Joden sat, hands on his knees, his head bowed. I swallowed hard at the sight.

Keir leaned forward. “This has nothing to do with what lies between us, Joden. Only with singing the dead on their way.”

We sat in silence for what seemed like forever before Joden spoke without lifting his head. “There are many dead to sing for.”

“There are.” Keir’s voice was quiet but firm.

There was another long silence as Joden studied his feet. I shifted on my stump. “Will there be a pattern dance?” I’d loved the patterns I’d seen danced before. But even before the words left my lips, I realized it was a foolish question. Pattern dances were so full of joy, they’d have no place at a funeral.

“No, Warprize.” Keir spoke softly, confirming my thoughts. “There is a special grieving ceremony.”

“It seems the only songs I know are laments.” Joden sighed, and nodded. “I will sing. We will mourn.”

“My thanks, Singer.” Keir dismissed them, and stood with me as they left the tent. Joden left as well, never once looking at Keir. I could see that he was a man torn between duty and friendship and I wished that I could help him somehow. Keir said that he must make his own decisions, but maybe if I talked to him privately.

I bit my lip at that thought. I’d confided in Joden, as a friend, confided all my doubts and fears. The details of the conversation flashed through my head. Would he use that information against me? A knot formed in the pit of my stomach at the idea that he would. My imagination gave way to a delightful tune about the complaints of the city-dwelling Warprize. Unobtrusively, I slipped my hand into Keir’s. He grasped it in a tight grip, his fingers warm in mine.

Yers lingered, and once the others were gone, approached us. “Warprize, I would ask for your token.”

Startled, I fumbled in my bag for a jar. “You hold my token, Yers. What truths would you voice?”

Yers held the jar in both hands, rubbing his thumb over the surface. He didn’t look me in the eye. “Warprize, I want to make sure that you bear me no grudge for giving Gils mercy.”

My throat closed, and my eyes stung with tears.

Marcus came to stand beside me. “He would not let me do it, Lara. For fear that you would hate me.”

Keir gripped my hand, and I drew enough comfort to speak the ritual words. “I will answer to your truth.”

Yers held the jar out to me, a gesture of trust. I took it back from him, and used the fumbling to replace it in my bag to clear my throat and my thoughts. When I felt I could speak, I looked him in the eye. “Yers, you did the right thing. Once he went into convulsions, I,” I had to bite my lip and stop for a moment, “I could do nothing but wait for the end.” I gave him a weak smile. “At the time, I confess I was angry and upset. I do not give up easily. You were right to act.”

Yers nodded. “I am pleased to hear it, Warprize, for I would have no ill will between us. I thank you for your truth.” He gave Keir a nod, and left the tent.

“That was well done, Warprize.” Marcus started to clear the various mugs that had been used, and any remaining dishes. “I’ve some of that stew left, and I think I will take it to Tsor’s tent. He looks to need fattening up. While I’m about it, I’ll check on Meara as well.”

Keir sighed. “I should walk the tents.”

I turned slightly, and shook my head. “I think not, Warlord. I have a different task for you this night.”

Marcus snorted, and left.

Keir raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And what is this task, Warprize?”

“One that requires your complete attention, my Warlord.” I stepped closer, close enough to feel the heat of his body. Close enough that he could smell the vanilla I’d put on the back of my neck. I watched, pleased, as his nostrils flared.

He arched one eyebrow, and I could see the humor lurking in his eyes. “Perhaps I can assign this task to one of my warriors?”

“No, my Warlord.” I reached out to take his hand, and entwined our fingers together. I smiled, took a step toward our sleeping area, and tugged on his hand.

“Are you certain?” Keir pulled me so that my back was pressed to his chest. His arm wrapped around my waist and held me close. He nuzzled my neck and I titled my head so that he could reach the tender spot on my neck, just under my ear. He chuckled softly. “Perhaps I should order Prest to—”

With an exasperated snort, I turned in his arms and kissed him, winding my arm around his neck, pulling him down so that I could claim his mouth. I pulled back, to see that the hint of humor was still there, a sparkle in the depths of the blue, but it faded to be replaced by an emotion that I recognized in a heartbeat.

Wonder, that we lived.

Guilt, that we had survived.

He raised his hand to brush my hair back, and then curled his fingers around the back of my neck. I shivered at his touch, as he pulled me close and kissed me again. It was long, slow, and sweet. I wrapped my arms around him, and leaned into his warmth.

He broke the kiss, and buried his face in my hair, letting his lips brush my ear. “Or maybe Rafe would—”

I stiffened, even as he chuckled. With a slight turn of my head, I gently licked his earlobe, then bit down.

He jerked, breathing hard. “Ah. Perhaps not.”

I laughed.

Keir smiled, and swung me up into his arms.

“Keir,” I protested, knowing that he wasn’t yet fully re-covered. But he ignored me, carrying me into our sleeping area to place me on my feet at the end of our bed. Even that had been an effort. I could feel the barest tremble in the muscles of his arms. I stilled his hands at his side. “Let me.”

He sighed in contentment as I started to unlace his leathers. Keir had insisted that he be armored for the senel, but had left it to just his black leathers. I took my time, nuzzling his face and neck as my fingers slowly exposed his skin. He was such a contrast, the hard muscles of his arms, the calluses on his hands, the soft skin of his stomach. There were scars, but they were as much a part of him as anything else, and I explored it all, with fingers and lips.

With a groan, he stopped me, and with a few quick movements he had me naked and on the bed.

“Keir,” I hadn’t finished, he was still half dressed, but he silenced me with his mouth and did his own exploration, using his hands to touch every inch of my skin. There was an urgency there, a desperation that I answered, moving under him, hungry for more.

I cried out when he moved away, but he only stood to strip away his trous, then he was back in my arms. I’d thought our loving would be long and slow, but the fire between us flared bright and wild. He entered me hard and hot and we never paused, urging each other on and on, striving until we both cried out, shattering into a thousand bright pieces of pleasure.

Keir rolled to his side, pulling me with him, keeping our bodies pressed tight together. We lay quiet, until our breathing eased. My whole body tingled, heated where his skin touched mine, cooled were the air caressed my exposed skin.

Keir stroked my back and it was my turn to sigh in contentment as he nuzzled my ear. His hand traveled down my back to rest lightly on my ribs. “You lost flesh.”

“You as well,” I whispered. I moved my hand over his ribs. “It will return, as we heal.” I looked at him through my lashes. “Although some heal faster than others.”

Keir gave me a sly smile. “I save my strength for the important things.”

I laughed, breathless with delight at his teasing.

“You light from within when you laugh, Lara.” He stroked my face as I blushed. “I’ve missed that.”

“There’s been little to laugh at lately.”

He nodded, and drew me closer. “Truth, Lara.”

“We’ve lost so much.” My voice broke as I thought of all that had happened.

“We’ve won as well,” Keir offered. “We’ve learned more of each other, and our peoples. It’s strengthened us.”

“At a cost.”

Keir moved us so that his body covered mine. “There is always a cost.”

“I just,” I swallowed hard. “So many died, and we—”

“We lived.” Keir brushed the tears from my cheeks, and followed with soft kisses over my face. I clung to him, rejoicing at his touch.

Gently, softly, we explored each other, murmuring words of love and reassurance as we gave each other pleasure. The ache in my heart eased and I forgot my fear and guilt. Beyond our tent walls lay pain, problems, and death. But within these walls, within Keir’s arms, lay strength, love and support. The wonder of that was evident in every touch of his lips to mine.

But more wondrous still was that he seemed to draw the same from me, craving my love as much with his heart as with his body. Making me a true partner, Warprize to his Warlord, woman to his man. Who could know that I would find that in the arms of a conquering Warlord? Our mutual pleasure was drawn out this time, less frantic than the last, but no less sweet. Keir nuzzled my breasts, teasing me with hands and lips as he explored them. I wasn’t as ample as the women warriors of the Firelanders, but Keir seemed satisfied. Goddess knew, I moaned at his touch, responding to every caress.

When he drew my nipple into his mouth, I gasped, digging my nails into his back. He chuckled, pleased at my reaction. But I’d learned well, and let my hands drift down his back, to tease the downy hairs at the base of his spine. He growled low in his throat, much to my satisfaction.

It wasn’t a shattering this time, more of a slow dissolving into bliss. Keir lay there, eyes half shut, breathing heavily as I cleaned us and then pulled the bedding up over our cooling bodies. He drew me close within the warmth, and we drifted off to sleep together.

We awoke to find ourselves entwined in the darkness, the braziers glowing softly, providing just enough light to see by. It was paradise, laying in his arms, enjoying the smell of his skin and the look in his eyes. For long moments we lay there, simply content.

Keir moved first, lifting his hand to brush the damp hairs off my forehead. “I didn’t know what it meant.”

I blinked at him, focusing on his blue eyes, warm and sated. Probably reflecting the satisfaction in mine. I let my fingers drift over the soft skin of his chest, enjoying the feel of the sparse hairs there. “Didn’t know what?”

“Didn’t know what ‘forever’ meant.”

I stiffened, uncertain and afraid. I remembered that moment so clearly, when Keir had claimed me for the second time. The wind in my hair, the ache of my bare feet, the fear that he wouldn’t allow me to stay with him and the joy when he’d whispered the word ‘Forever’ in my ear. Did he regret his words?

He chuckled, moving his hands to stroke me, easing my tension. “No, no, my heart’s fire, you misunderstand my words.” Keir shifted to Xyian. “When I spoke that word, and made that pledge to you, I didn’t really understand what it meant.”

He shifted slightly, pulling me closer. “It doesn’t just mean for years and years, for the rest of our lives. Or as we would say, to the snows and beyond.”

“Oh?” I still wasn’t sure what he was trying to say.

“ ‘Forever’ means every day, every breath. Through the mistakes that we make, through the love that we share between our bodies, through illness we suffer, through sorrow, grief, and joy. All of it, Lara.”

I melted against him, listening carefully, marveling at his words.

“It’s the total of all our shared moments, good and bad, perfect and ugly.”

I pushed up onto an elbow in order to look at his face. “Keir…”

He placed a finger over my lips. “What I am trying to say is that now that I do know what it means, it makes it mean so much more.”

I smiled, and reached out to stroke his cheek.

He huffed out a breath in frustration. “I am a warrior,” he grimaced slightly. “A barbarian in your people’s eyes. My words do not flow easily, in either language.” He placed his palm over my hand. “So I say this truth to you, Lara, Xylara, Daughter of Xy, Queen of Xy, Master Healer, Warprize and woman I love, I am sworn to you. Forever.”

I kissed him, even as my eyes filled with tears.

Keir gave me an uncertain look. “Are those tears of joy?”

I nodded, laughing. “Oh, they are, my Keir.”

“Well then?” He asked. “Don’t you have something to say to me?”

“Do I?” I arched an eyebrow, trying to control my smile.

He growled, and moved, pinning me to the bed, covering my body with his. I laughed out loud, and buried my hands in his hair. “Keir of the Cat, Warrior of the Plains, Warlord of the Plains, Overlord of Xy, I say this truth to you. I am sworn to you.” I paused, growing serious. “Forever. Through whatever life, and the Gods and the Elements have in store for us.”

He kissed me then, intertwining our fingers together. “My heart’s fire.” He grinned, his white teeth flashing in the light, and then flipped us again, so that I was on top. His hands rested on my hips, fingers splayed out.

I sat up, letting the bedding fall off my shoulders. His eyes gleamed, and I raised an eyebrow. “What are you—”

He flexed beneath me, and I gasped.

Keir’s smile widened. “Perhaps a riding lesson?”

I arched my back, moaning with pleasure as his hands moved my hips.

After a few days, one morning when Keir left early to judge a round of combats, I took advantage of his absence to take care of a chore. When I told Rafe and Prest what I

wanted to do, Rafe paled, glancing at Prest for support. “I’m not sure this is wise.”

Prest shrugged.

Rafe scowled. “You are of no help.”

I stood. “I’m going to talk to him, with or without you.”

Rafe heaved a rather exaggerated sigh, and followed us out of the tent.

There’d been a heavy mist hanging in the air the last few days, and this morning found a thick frost riming the grass and trees. The Goddess’s Lace, we called it, the first hard frost of the season, heralding the start of winter. Soon, within a few weeks, the snows would begin. As we walked, I wondered what winter would be like on the Plains.

Most everyone was watching the contests, except those on guard duty. Prest and Rafe followed as I walked to Iften’s tent, and pushed through the flap with no ceremony.

He was there, seated on a stump, eating gurt with his left hand. The right was held against his chest, close to his body. I stepped far enough in to allow Prest to enter behind me, but stopped there, since Iften’s expression made it clear that I was not welcome.

“Iften.”

“Xyian.”

I stiffened. His tone, and choice of address was as clear an insult as I had heard. Prest put his hand on his weapon. Iften’s eyes flicked, but he looked away, and spoke grudgingly. “Warprize.”

Prest lowered his hand.

I cleared my throat. “Iften, I want to speak to you about your injury.”

“I want nothing from you, Warprize. Not your healing, not your words.”

“If you reject my care, I can’t inflict it on you. You are free to make a choice, good or bad. But my oaths require that you know the consequences of your choice. So I will speak. Listen or not, as you choose.”

“I will not—”

Prest spoke. “The wind will teach, if we but listen.”

I looked at him, startled. It wasn’t like Prest to speak up that way. The words he’d uttered sounded like a saying of some kind. But Prest’s face was bland and composed.

Iften was taken aback as well. He looked at Prest, and then looked away, as if ashamed. “I will listen.”

“Your arm is still badly swollen and the flesh is discolored. Your hand and fingers are numb, and it hurts to move them. There is no strength in the arm.”

Iften eyed me, but made no response.

“If you don’t let me set it, you may heal, but you will not heal true. You may lose all use of your hand, or never regain the strength in it again.” I paused. “It is your sword arm.”

He responded then, glowering in my direction.

“If you allow me to care for it, the chances are good that the arm will heal true. If you wait to see a warrior-priest, the damage maybe too great for them to fix.”

“You’d cast your spells, eh, Warprize.” He mocked me.

“I cast no spells, Iften. I have only the skills and knowledge of my craft. The rest is in the hands of the Goddess. Or the elements.”

There was a long pause, and for a moment I held the hope that he would agree. But his face darkened, and anger flared in his eyes. I’d lost.

He spat out his fury. “I’ve listened, and the wind has brought me nothing. Leave.”

“Fool,” Prest said.

Without a thought, Iften reached for his weapon, but the pain caught him even faster as the arm began to move. He hissed, drawing the limb back against his chest.

I turned and left without another word. As we emerged and headed toward Keir’s tent, I questioned Prest. “What was that?”

He smiled, the wind catching his braids. “A teaching tool.”

“For children.” Rafe shook his head. “For a quiet man, you can sure make someone froth at the mouth.”

Prest grinned.

Rafe turned back to me. “It goes like this, Warprize.

I nodded, then looked over at Prest. “You insulted him.”

Prest shrugged, but there was no grin this time. “How long, Warprize?”

“Before he loses the use?” At his nod, I continued. “It depends on the swelling. But the damage will be permanent if he doesn’t get it seen to within the next week or so. And even then, I might have to re-break the bone.”

Prest grunted, but he looked oddly satisfied.

The combats proved to be both unsettling and exciting.

Unsettling because these warriors went at it tooth and nail, with bare steel and grim faces. I was used to watching practice sessions, but that didn’t prepare me for naked combat. True, they were to first blood, but they took the fighting deadly seriously. Each combat had a judge, usually one of the warleaders, or Keir himself.

Exciting because each combat had warriors watching, warriors who yelled out their support, their criticisms and encouragement. More mob than audience. The first one or two, I had sat there in fear, waiting for one to kill the other. But Isdra pointed out the level of skill that the warriors were using, and Yers explained that it was considered disgraceful to kill someone in these types of fights. So I started to relax. The noise was startling but the fever was catching, and I found myself yelling as well. Keir, laughing at my enthusiasm, had reminded me that it would be best if I showed no favoritism. It was hard to sit there and watch without really participating, so I spent more time in my stilltent. Because the combats accomplished more than just determining a winner: They also had warriors seeking me out for aid. The last one for today was standing before me, holding his right arm in his left hand.

“That looks deep.” I reached for his arm, to see it better. The blood was oozing through his leather armor. It looked clean, thank the Goddess, and I looked up to offer reassurance. Large brown eyes stared at me glumly through fairly long brown hair. “I made it through four rounds, Warprize, but Ander’s blow went right through the leather.”

If he was twenty, I’d be surprised. A warrior, and his disappointment was obvious. I turned the arm carefully, to look at it closer. “A nasty cut. Sit here, and let me see to it.”

The lad shifted from foot to foot before sitting down rather slowly. I called to Rafe, standing guard outside, then turned back to my patient. “What is your name?”

“Cadr, Warprize.”

With Rafe’s help, we eased the young man out of his armor. Rafe whistled when he saw the cut through the leather. “Who was your opponent?”

“Ander.”

Rafe nodded. “He’s a strong one. How many rounds did you make it through?”

The lad looked up. “Four, Warrior.”

“Well done, to make it that far.” Rafe gave me a nod, and went back out to his post.

The lad straightened at Rafe’s parting words. I started to clean the arm, although it wasn’t all that dirty.

“Gonna use bloodmoss?”

Startled, I look at him. “Why, yes, I think so.”

He nodded. “Gils told me. Told me that the wound had to be clean.” He gave the wound a critical look. “Looks clean.”

“You knew Gils?”

He nodded, and used his good hand to open a pouch at his side. He pulled out a small package of bloodmoss, wrapped carefully in a clean cloth. “Gils and I were friends, Warprize.” His face was stoic, but I could hear the pain in his voice. “I wanted to take his place as your guard.”

“Gils wasn’t my guard, Cadr. Gils was my apprentice.” I choked a bit on the words.

“Guardian of your knowledge.” Cadr answered quietly.

I reached for the dried leaves as I blinked back my tears. Cadr watched in silence as I packed the arm carefully, pressing it tight to the wound. The familiar moldy smell filled my nose as the plant did its work. As soon as the color changed, I pulled the leaves away to reveal the pink skin beneath it. “Favor the arm for a day, Cadr.”

“I will.” He adjusted his seat as he struggled into his tunic with my help. “Warprize, what Gils told me was interesting, and I’d like to leam more. Not sure I want to give up being a warrior… ”

I looked at him and smiled. “If you want to learn more, that’s fine. Come when you have time, and I’ll be glad to teach you some useful things.”

Cadr nodded, picked up his other bits of armor and turned to leave. But a memory came to me, something Gils had said. “Cadr?”

He turned, with an enquiring look.

“Didn’t Gils tell me that you had a boil?”

He hesitated, then nodded. “I tried to deal with it myself, Warprize. Thought you’d be angry. But it’s back, and bigger, and hurting.”

“Drop your pants, young man.” I moved to get my lances, a sense of quiet joy in my heart. Here was something I could cure. “I’ll explain about boils while we take care of this problem.”

Cadr sighed, and dropped his pants.

After dealing with Cadr’s problem, I returned to the command tent. Keir was still out, but Marcus had promised to have four buckets of hot water waiting, with my soaps laid out for me, and drying cloths. Keir’s people may be comfortable bathing together naked in the river but not me. While a hot bath might be out of the question, using the drain in the privy room to shower myself with warm water was the next best thing. Rafe and Prest took up position by the tent entrance.

Marcus was waiting inside. “Everything is laid out, Warprize. If you need help with the water, call.”

“I will.” I turned and glared at my guards. “No interruptions.”

“Even the Warlord?” Prest asked with a sly grin.

“The Warlord may enter.” Actually, I was hoping the Warlord would enter. I’d not seen him most of the day. “No one else, unless they are ill.”

“As the Warprize commands.” Prest bowed, as Rafe and Marcus chuckled.

Once in the privy, I checked the water temperature, set my bag on a bench and started to undress. I did miss the hot baths under the castle of Water’s Fall. Soaking in their warm depths was a luxury that I had taken for granted. But given the living conditions in this camp, I was grateful for what I had. Remembering the temperature of the water in the lake made me shiver.

I took my time, hoping that Keir might appear. I removed my tunic, combed out my braid, and eased my trous off. As I bent down, it seemed to me that my waist was a bit thicker than I remembered. Of course, Marcus had been feeding me on a regular basis but—

I paused, thinking back. When had I last had my courses?

The last I’d thought of it had been the day when Keir and I had eaten by the lake. I flushed at the memory of our tryst. We’d taken advantage of the sun and the water and the privacy. I’d been due then, and here I was, weeks later, with no sign of them. Admittedly, I’d been sick, which could cause a delay, but still…

Could I be pregnant?

I sat and stared at the tent wall for some time, thinking about it, trying to decide how I felt about the possibility. I

didn’t feel like I was bearing, not that I had any actual experience. But I knew the symptoms as well as any other healer, and I wasn’t feeling anything along those lines. No swelling of the lower limbs, no nausea.

I thought of how Keir had played with little Meara, how the other warriors had treated the babe as gently as any Xyian. The news would bring great joy, but troubles too. The Council of Xy had made demands, conditions on my acceptance of the role of Warprize. I hadn’t talked to Keir about them yet. It wasn’t an issue until I was pregnant and the child was due.

Which was a falsehood on my part. I worried my lip, thinking. How do I tell him what I’d promised? Before I’d seen him with a babe, I’d thought that children meant little to these people. After all, they bore children, they left them to be raised by theas, going off to serve in the army. But then they’d shown that they treasure children much as my people do, maybe even more.

I drew a deep breath in and let it out slowly. I’d tell him when I was with child, not before. Isdra would know, she’d borne before. I could confide in her, but even as I had the thought I knew I wouldn’t. It was too soon, and I had no desire to add to her pain, or worse, give her a false hope. I’d share the news when I was certain, not before.

Time would tell, of course, and I tried to be practical. But for just a moment, as I put my hand over my belly, a vision of a small boy with dark hair and blue eyes, dragging a wooden practice sword, flashed into my mind. He’d look so much like Keir…

In a bemused state, I moved to start my bath.

Of course, I was bending over, rinsing my hair, when I heard someone enter behind me.

“You came too late, my Warlord.” I stood and turned to reach for another bucket of water, a teasing smile on my lips.

It wasn’t Keir.

A man stood there, with wild tangled fur for hair and colored tattoos all over his face and chest. He was glaring at me, holding a long spear, with a human skull tied near the tip.

I shrieked, and heaved the bucket at him.