Authors: Elizabeth Vaughan
“Nothing.” The reply was in unison. My skepticism must have been obvious, because they all laughed.
The day had turned overcast, and held the promise of rain. Keir took me by the shoulders and turned me to walk around the corner of the tent. Prest and Rafe were slightly ahead of us.
There was a second, smaller tent there, that had been put up recently. I looked at Keir, who smiled. Prest and Rafe stood next to the tent flap. “Look!” said Rafe as he pulled the flap aside. Keir gave me a light push and I entered the tent. They followed.
I stood there, stunned.
There were all the supplies that I had requested, crates of them, everything that I had asked for, and…
Stillroom equipment. I moved forward, eyes open in wonder. There were flasks, and bowls, and mortar and pestle, and small braziers, and jars and bottles. They covered the three tables in the tent. I turned and stared at Keir. He was smiling, looking back at me. Prest and Rafe were laughing.
“When did you do this?”
Keir grinned. “Last night and this morning. When you told me of a ‘stillroom’ and what it contained, I sent Sal to your friend Remn. They gathered what I wanted and what was needed. Now, you have a ‘stilltent’, yes?” His smile faded as he looked around. “I had not thought… these items are fragile. We will need a way to carry it when we move.” He moved around the small tent as he thought. “I will talk to Sal and see what she thinks.”
I stood there, a tangle of emotions. Joy at the gift. Fear at the idea of leaving. I laid a shaking hand on Keir’s arm. “Thank you.”
He smiled down at me. “I would help, but Warren is coming for the nooning with some of his men. He has sent a messenger to confirm that he will come, and to tell me that Durst still clings to life with the aid of Eln the Healer.”
I caught my breath. “Eln is very skilled. I apprenticed to him.”
Keir cocked his head. “Skilled with porcupine quills?”
I smiled. “Yes, that too.”
Keir lifted his chin, a gleam of humor in his eyes. “We will review battles and tell lies about our bravery. Do you wish to attend?”
I looked around the tent. “There’s so much to do here. Do you mind?”
“No.” His lips twitched. “Although you are missing Simus at his best, full of food and drink and tales of his prowess.” Keir shook his head. “Prest and Rafe have asked to be there. I will send someone to relieve them.”
I shrugged and smiled. “I’ll be fine.”
Keir frowned. “No. They will be relieved. I’ll have food brought to you as well.” He reached up, cradled my head in his hand, and kissed me. His lips lingered on my mouth. “I will be thinking about you.” He lowered his voice. “And about this morning.” He leaned forward and whispered in my ear. “And about tonight.” He stood and smiled at my blush.
“Maybe there will be night horrors again tonight?” He chuckled as he left the tent.
I threw myself into the work, rather then try to think about anything else. Prest and Rafe helped me arrange the tables, with the crates below. It took a while to sort through everything and to get the heavy crates maneuvered into position.
At last, we were down to one unopened crate. Prest had found something to pry off the top. He and Rafe were wrestling with it when their relief arrived, hailing from outside the tent. With one last heave, Prest pried the lid off. They both scrambled to their feet, eager to go.
Rafe pulled the new guards inside. “Warprize, this is Epor and Isdra. They will guard while we are gone.” Prest and Rafe turned and left with my thanks floating behind them.
I smiled at the older man and woman, the same that were with us in the castle. I remembered him for his bright gold hair and beard that shown like the sun. He had a warm, easy smile, and was big, like the paintings of the sun god in the temple. The crinkles at the corners of his eyes and the slight silver at his temples told me that he was older than most Firelanders that I had met. He was different too, in that he had a long club strapped to his back, the top jutting up like the hilts of Keir’s swords.
Epor smiled back and nodded. “I am Epor, Warprize. This is Isdra. Let us know if you need help. We’ll be outside if you need us, if Isdra can stop gaping.”
The woman, who was almost his height but thinner, had a long braid of silver hair that hung down her back. Her skin had a yellow tint to it, and her eyes were oddly slanted. She wore a shield on her back, and a sword and dagger at her side. She’d been busy looking around at all the things in the tent. She seemed a bit more reserved to me but at Epor’s words, she whipped her head around, flinging the braid and glared at Epor with her grey eyes flashing. Epor just laughed, and pulled at her braid as they left the tent. I noticed that they each had some kind of metal wire laced along the outer rim of their left ears. It glittered in the light as Isdra turned her head. I’d have to ask Atira what it meant.
I watched as Epor and Isdra took up stations outside the flap. It still seemed so strange to me, to see women dressed in armor, with weapons she clearly knew how to use. All of the women that I’d seen were so strong, confident of her abilities and secure in her position. I envied them to a degree, having so freely what I had to fight to achieve.
I turned back to my work and lifted the lid of the last crate.
I sat down. Hard. And stared.
It was filled with paper. Ink. Blank journals.
In one wonderful, horrible moment I knew that I was lost. Keir, Warlord, had taken me, claimed me, made me his warprize. But somewhere, somehow, he had managed to find a way into my heart as well.
How had this happened? I’d given myself to a barbarian, a ravaging, crazed warlord, expecting little more than abuse and dishonor at his hands. But this man had offered nothing but kindness and respect to me, his property. I knew this gift was by his hand, I’d not spoken to Sal about paper or ink, and she’d not understand its importance.
Could he care so much that he paid attention to this tiny detail?
Did he want me to be happy?
I clutched one of the journals to my chest as my emotions overwhelmed me. Joy and confusion warred with one another. My mouth went dry, and I closed my eyes. What would happen when we returned to his home? Such a warrior as Keir had other… conquests. At least five. Of that I was certain. The image of him in another’s arms came to me and I felt sick. I closed my eyes and let the nausea pass through me.
Keir moved his hand, running his fingers through my hair, spreading it out over the fur. His eyes flared blue light. “Want to know the best part of being a warlord?” I just looked up and nodded. Keir grinned. “I always get what I want.”
I put my head down. The pain threatened to overwhelm me. Please Goddess, let him want me. Let him want me forever.
Enough. I sat up and scrubbed at my face with my sleeve. I had work to do.
I returned to the tent to check on my patients. The man was well; drowsy after eating. Atira was awake, though, and gestured me over when she saw me. I waved Gils off, since I knew he had other duties, and moved to sit by her side.
“Warprize.” Atira looked deeply concerned. “Warprize, may I have your token?” She looked anxious and worried.
I reached for one of her stones and handed it to her. “You hold my token, Atira. What truths would you voice?”
She hesitated, looking at me closely. “I have heard a rumor in the camp about you, and I would ask you if it is true, and voice a truth if it is indeed true.” I had to think for a minute. “A rumor? About me?”
“About your people.” She nodded “And you.” She rubbed the stone between her fingers. “Is it true that you are untouched? That your people do not mate until they bond?”
I reared back, physically. Consciously or not, Atira did so as well, keeping a tight grip on the token and holding it up between us. It took me a minute to gather my wits. “Atira, who told you—”
“Skies above, it’s true,” she whispered, staring at me in utter horror. “You bind when young and sleep only with your bonded?”
I managed a nod, my face so hot it hurt. “Who teaches you then? Who instructs… ?” Her voice trailed off as she looked at my eyes. “No one? You are both left to fumble about?” She collapsed back on the cot in silence.
I closed my eyes and pressed my fingers to my cheeks to try to cool them.
“None told me, Warprize. I listened to the stories of your people, and the Warlord’s intent to follow your ways, and made a guess. But I must say this. Stupid. That is so stupid, Warprize.”
I looked at her, puzzled. “What is that word? Stupid?”
“Dull-witted. Foolish. Ignorant.” Her angry face glowered at me. “We have initiators. Teachers. Joden is one. He would be an excellent choice. You should request him.” She sounded like a parent recommending a Master to study under.
I choked up, laughter and tears both in my throat, trying to find the words. “Atira, we believe that two people should come to the bonding… untouched… and learn together.”
She shook her head, and held up the token. “The Warlord said to learn and respect different ways. But that is barbaric and stupid.” She held the stone out to me, frowning as she did so.
I took the stone. “I thank you for your truth, Atira. As you say, our ways are very different.”
“All I ask is that you think on my words, Warprize. Keir is experienced, but he is not an initiator. You have no thea to advise you in your choice, but come to me after you have thought on this and we will talk. I will mention this to no one.”
I fled to the stilltent to throw myself into a frenzy of the familiar.
As I had so often in the past, I lost myself in my work. Soon, I had various pots simmering and bubbling on the tables. A double batch of fever’s foe was cooling in some jars on the far table. I had a jug of my rose hip tea steeping in the corner. There were papers set out on every available surface as I tried to reconstruct my recipes for the various salves and lotions that I had made over the years. I had no marvelous memory to rely on and I found it hard going. It would be easier when I started mixing, since my nose would remember the smells as I worked. At least, that was my hope.
I also hoped that the warmth that lingered on my cheeks was from the effort, and not from the discussion. Dearest Goddess, initiators? Would I be called on to bear five children? And what if Keir couldn’t father five children on me? Would I be required to ‘use’ someone else?
There was a noise at the entrance, and I looked up to see Marcus wrapped in a cloak, carrying a large basket. He fixed me with that one eye. “As Hisself thought. Past the nooning, and you with no food in or near you.” He tsk’ed at the look on my face. “Aye, lost in your work, as I expected. Well then that one of us has the common sense the elements gave all creatures.” He looked around. “Already? No space for food or drink?” I laughed and we pulled out some crates to sit on. He pulled out some dishes and a flask from his basket. I dug in, suddenly starved. Marcus was wandering around and sniffing my concoctions.
“Is Warren still here?” I asked around a mouthful of food.
“Aye.” Marcus sniffed the fever’s foe. “They’re swilling kavage and telling old war tales.” He rolled his eye. “From the sound, one would think that they were fighting all the battles over again.”
“Marcus?”
“Aye?” He replied, still poking around.
I cleared my throat. “What happened to you?”
He turned swiftly and stared at me. I thought I might have offended him, but he snorted. “Healers.” He laughed quietly, “I figured you’d ask eventually.” He pulled up a crate and sat down. “All right then, ‘tis simple enough. Ever hear of fiery pitch?” He gestured for me to keep eating, so I just shook my head.
“Thought not.” He sighed. “Nasty stuff. It’s flung against an enemy. It’s a substance that burns when fired and sticks to whatever it touches.” He studied his feet. “I was in such a battle, and was stupid enough to have my head up when a shot landed nearby. I caught just the edge of it, but’t‘was enough.” He sighed. “It coated me and burned and burned. I’d thought better to die, but a young warrior, barely dry behind the ears, would not listen to my plea for mercy.” He looked up, serious. “Hisself would not do it. He would not let me go. Through the pain and fear of the days that followed, he would not let me go.”
Marcus stood. “When it was done, and I was healed, well… my days of battle were over. I would not last on the field for long with a blind side.” His hands flexed at his sides, and he rubbed his face and head with them. “The sorrow of that loss hurt worse then the burns.” His hands lowered and his one eye looked off in the distance. “Hisself cursed me for a fool, and made me his bearer.” Marcus shrugged. “I have served him ever since.”
“So he did the same thing Joden did.” I thought for a moment. “Was he punished?”
Marcus had to laugh at that. “No, Warprize, not in the sense that you mean. I was a simple warrior, no second-in-command. Keir’s refusal was not treated well, and caused many a comment, but you’ve seen him fight. There’s none that would challenge. Many took his token and criticized him for the violation of tradition, but he answered to their truths every time.”
He stood and wrapped the cloak about him, covering himself completely. “Nay, Joden’s action was different. His failure to give mercy resulted in Simus being captured and there’s the point, Warprize. While Keir supports him and Simus has thanked him, there will be larger problems with the Council of Elders. Aye, and maybe with the Singers, too.”
“How did the healers…”
Marcus grimaced. “I have no idea who did what, or how, and no wish to remember the details. It was long ago, Warprize.” He glared at me and pointed at the plate of food. “Eat. I must return to the tent and see if Hisself requires anything.” He smirked and raised an eyebrow. “Simus is telling his tall tales, and those city-dwellers are believing every word. I needs get back and poke holes in the bucket he carries his conceit in.”
I chuckled as he left the tent.
I worked as I ate, jotting down notes as I recalled the recipes. When they were done, I set the pots to cooling. I had time to distill a cough remedy that I remembered, if I could find the ingredients in the crates. I looked to see if I had remembered to get honey. Added, it would sweeten the brew.