Warprize (19 page)

Keir’s grip on my wrist tightened as he pulled me back to the platform. Ice cold sweat formed down my spine as a vision of the man tied to the whipping post filled my eyes.

I was pulled back to reality when Keir released my wrist and pushed me back down on my stump. “What would you say, Warprize?” The words ground out between his teeth as he towered over me. Wanting nothing more than to sink into the earth, I dropped my eyes and caught a glimpse of Iften behind Keir, smirking in delight.

“Well?”

I glanced over at Simus, who nodded as if encouraging me to speak. Lifting my chin, as well as my courage, I met Keir’s eyes. “I have two truths.”

“What?” Keir snapped at me, and I got a clear glimpse of his teeth.

“Supplies for the healing tent.” I swallowed hard. “I can do more with medicines, herbs and equipment.”

There was a murmur of reaction to that, but Keir’s eyes continued to bore into mine. “More?” The anger that had flared seemed to smolder beneath the surface. “You would aid any who came to you?”

“Yes.” My wrist throbbed, but I sat still and straight.

One of the men snorted from the back. “Our warriors will become soft as city-dwellers if we let them complain of every ache and pain.”

“Oh, and they fight so much better when they have a rash under their arms, or flux dribbling out of their ass,” I snapped back, letting my temper flare.

The room exploded in laughter.

Simus threw back his head and roared. “Ah,” he gasped, wiping his eyes. “This one’ll not let slackers lay idle. She’ll have them empty slop pots!”

More laughter. Keir’s posture didn’t relax, but there was a hint of a smile on that stern face. I carefully kept my eyes on his, not daring to look away. After a moment he returned to his stump and gestured for more kavage. “And your second truth, Warprize?”

I shifted so that I looked directly at him, but he stared ahead, so all I had was his profile. “You need to understand that I am a healer, not a—” I bit my lip, at a loss for the right word. “Not a worker of wonders. I can’t wave my hand and fix Atira’s leg so that she can jump up as if nothing happened.” I drew a breath. “I have set her leg, but bone healing takes time.” I dropped my eyes to the rough planks of the platform. “I can’t heal all illness. Would to the Goddess that I could.”

There was silence in the tent. Keir’s voice was low, but it carried. “You’d try to help any who came to you?”

I looked up, surprised he even had to ask. “Of course.”

Keir looked around the room, and I could see that some of the warriors were nodding their heads, although Iften and a few others were scowling. Keir opened his mouth to speak, but at that moment Marcus approached and bowed to Keir. “Warlord, there is a man of the city outside. He says that he has business with you, as you owe him a debt. He will talk to no one but you.”

“Let him approach.”

The tent flaps parted and Remn entered, moving with quiet dignity toward the high seat. I sat up and smiled. His eyes caught mine, and a look of relief flashed over his face for just a moment. He made no sound. Instead, he focused his eyes on Keir and continued to advance. A servant followed him with a small bundle. About five steps from Keir, he stopped, and bowed low.

“Greetings, Warlord. I am Remn, a humble bookseller. I thank you for this audience. I apologize that I do not speak your language. Is there one who can interpret my words?”

Keir nodded. “I speak your language. I am told that you have come to collect a debt from me, bookseller. I owe no debt to you that I am aware of.”

“Noble Warlord, the debt is owed by one of your house.”

Keir raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

Remn folded his hands in front of his chest. “Noble Warlord, one of your household came to me seeking a loan. She sought the money for the purchase of herbs and medicines for your men held captive at the time. In return, she pledged a book to me as a surety of the repayment of the debt. The book has not yet been redeemed.”

Keir glanced at me, then back at Remn. “And the name of this person?”

Remn bowed low and left his head down. “Forgive me, Noble Warlord, but by the orders of my King I am forbidden to speak her name.”

Keir frowned. The room stilled somewhat, sensing his displeasure. “It is not wise to offer insult to the warprize.”

Remn raised his head to look Keir in the eye. “Forgive me, Mighty Warlord. It is not I who offers the insult.”

I sat there, stunned.

Keir rose. The room started to rise as well, but he gestured them down. “Be at ease. I will return when I have concluded this business.” He looked at me. “Warprize.”

We moved toward the sleeping area. Remn took the package from his servant and followed.

Once in the privacy of the room, I turned, unsure of my welcome. Keir seated himself on the end of the bed. Remn ignored him, opened his arms and embraced me. Tears filled my eyes as I buried my head in his shoulder. He smelled of old books, dust, and home.

“Dearest Lara.” Remn whispered in my ear as he held me tight. “We feared you dead or worse.” He stepped back with tears in his eyes. “All we knew was that after you disappeared into the camp it erupted into lights and noise and celebration. Anna feared you sacrificed. She has not eaten since you left. I swear that she has actually lost weight in these last few days.” He laughed shakily and wiped his eyes. “I hear tell that the food in the castle has all the taste of straw of late.” He darted a glance out of the corner of his eye at the brooding figure of the Warlord. “Othur came to me and asked if I would try to find out how you were. So here I am.”

I wiped the moisture from my eyes and smiled. “I am well, Remn. Truly.”

Keir, looking stern, interrupted. “What do you mean that you cannot speak her name?”

Remn sighed. “The King has ordered that no one speak of her, or make inquiry as to her health or well being.”

Keir frowned.

I placed a hand on Remn’s shoulder. “Please tell Anna that I am fine and well treated. She mustn’t worry. Tell her to eat or she will get sick.”

Keir snorted at that, as if he understood the jest.

Remn smiled and hugged me again. “I will. And here… here is the book that you pledged. I cannot keep it and would not sell it.” He opened the package and pulled out my old friend. The leather had been cleaned and it smelled of saddle soap.

I laughed, delighted, and without thinking, turned to show the book to Keir. He looked at me oddly. Turning toward a chest, he opened one and pulled out a small pouch. “My thanks, bookseller. Here is the money that was borrowed, and a little for your troubles in collecting it.”

Remn stood straight. “Warlord, that is not necessary. I do this for friendship’s sake.”

Keir gave him a serious look. “Then let me do it in the name of the men who were aided.”

Remn bowed, then straightened. He looked up into Keir’s eyes with a stern expression. “You were given a treasure, Warlord. The King may not see it that way, but my people do. See that it is cherished.”

“Remn.” I admonished him, a blush rising in my face.

Keir merely nodded, as if in agreement. “I must return to my men. Warprize, return to the meal in your own time.”

With that he left the room.

Remn clutched my arm. “Lara, Othur sends you a message. Xymund was the one to clear your room of the last of your things after the ceremony. He was in the room for a long time. And emerged in a towering rage. From the way he talks, it seems that he has somehow convinced himself that you betrayed him to the Warlord. Even when he spoke to the Warlord’s man alone, his rage seems centered on you. Be careful, Lara. He hates you.”

“Remn, I have obeyed Xymund. He has no reason to hate me.” I clutched the book to my chest. “Can you stay?”

Remn shook his head. “I must get back and get word to Anna before the poor woman loses another ounce.” He smiled and hugged me. I held on hard, until at last he slipped from my arms, his face wet with tears. “Be well, my child.” Marcus escorted him out as I wiped my face. I placed the book under my pillow, took a few deep breaths, and returned to the meeting area.

Keir was speaking when I entered. “… so plans must change as well. Provided the peace holds, we will make new division of our forces. I now have no choice but to return to the Heart of the Plains with the warprize. Simus, I would leave you here in my stead.”

“Ah, my suffering in your service knows no boundaries,” Simus replied in mocking tones. I stepped to my seat amidst the chuckles with a pit in my stomach that had not been there before. While my head knew that I was the Warlord’s possession, my heart had denied the possibility of leaving my home. Just talking to Remn made me long for Anna and the kitchen. How could I bear never to see them again?

Keir continued to speak. “I’ve called for a ceremony honoring the dead, both Xyian and of the Plains, to be held at the castle tomorrow night. Discuss among yourselves who should attend.” He stood and looked about. “If there is nothing further…” From his tone, there had better not be.

“I’s hold your token, Warlord.”

My eyes widened. Gils had somehow managed to get into the tent and now held the token in his hand. His young voice quavered, but he stood tall before the crowd, fresh scrubbed from the look of him. His tunic had no sleeves, and the tattoos on both arms were displayed clearly.

Keir sat back down, his face serious but there was warmth in his voice. “What truth would you voice, warrior? At a senel that you were asked to serve, not join?”

Gils swallowed hard, but did not back down. “I’s Gils. I’s give voice to one truth. I’s wish to a-pren-tice,” he spoke the word slowly and carefully, “to the warprize and forsake the way of a warrior for the path of healing.” The feathers on the token were moving, and I realized his hands were shaking.

There were cries of outrage as warriors leaped to their feet. Gils’s eyes widened and his hands clutched the token tighter, making the bells ring. He didn’t turn to see the men behind him. Instead, he kept his eyes focused on Keir.

Keir held up both hands, bringing silence with a gesture. “He holds my token.”

The others sat back down.

“I will speak to your truth.” Keir stood at the edge and looked down at Gils, who nodded. The youngster returned the token to its place, but remained standing next to it.

“What you speak of is not our way, Gils. This truth would change your life forever, especially in the eyes of our people.” Gils opened his mouth, but Keir raised a hand. “I will consider your truth. This is not a decision made lightly, nor should your truth be answered while we are in the field. Continue in your regular duties.”

Gils’s shoulders slumped. Keir studied him for a moment. “What are your secondary duties, Gils?”

Yers spoke up. “Kitchen helper, Warlord.” The man shook his head. “He’s talked of nothing but the healing tent since he started taking meals there.”

“If I remember, kitchen duty is much sought after, if only for the treats one can sneak.” There was general laughter to that comment. Keir continued, “Gils, is it your truth that you would rather empty slop pots than work in the kitchen?”