Warsworn

Chapter 4

“Lara? What is ‘plague’?” Keir’s voice was sharp.

“Marcus,” I jerked around in the saddle to look at him. “I need Gils. My supplies, where are my supplies?” I’d need fever’s foe, more than what I had at hand. Gils could make more, he’d learned that much.

“Xylara.”

That jerked my head around, my eyes wide. Keir rarely used my full name, and never with that tone before. He was sitting on his horse, looking as if his patience had gone. I swallowed hard. “I need Gils and my supplies.”

“You need to explain, Lara. I have a warforce poised, as you prattle about supplies. Tell me now, what is it about this illness that changes things in any way?”

“It’s plague. An illness that kills.”

“Illness kills?” Keir ran his hand through his hair, frowning.

“Yes, of course it does.” It took a moment to understand the full meaning of that question. But surely it was because he didn’t know the word. Yet, my breath caught in my throat. His eyes were full of doubt, how could he not understand?

“There is no ‘of course’ in this.” Keir responded in a voice that cut like a blade. “Are you telling me there is another explanation for the village’s actions? A valid one?”

Holy Goddess. He didn’t understand. “Keir, the villagers were trying to protect your men. It’s not a rebellion.” Keir frowned, but he listened as I continued. “Under our law, an afflicted village closes its gates and keeps to itself until the disease has run its course. They fill the boundary stones with vinegar as a warning, and warn off any who try to enter. It’s not you they are fighting!”

“So.” Keir thought for a moment, then gestured to Iften. “We’ll position the warriors, but well back from the walls. No one is to attack except at my command. Full battle gear, I’ll not have any warrior dead of overconfidence.”

He pulled back on the reins, preparing to go. “Marcus, take her to the rear. Get her into some armor quickly, then come when I send for her,” he glared at me. “And only when I send for her.”

I opened my mouth, but he cut me off with a gesture. “And find Gils and get her what she thinks she needs. I will call for you when I am ready. Understood?”

My guards nodded, but it wasn’t enough for me. “Keir, what are you going to do?”

“As I’d planned before. We will move into position, and send a messenger to the walls.”

“Rafe. He needs to take precautions, I will—”

Keir didn’t take his eyes off me. “Rafe, go with the Warprize. Epor…”

Epor moved his horse up slightly. “Aye, Warlord?”

Keir’s gaze never wavered. “Keep her back, Epor. Within sight of the walls, but at a distance. And I order you to wrestle her to the ground and tie her to a tree if necessary.”

I flushed up at Keir’s words, biting my lip.

“Aye to that, Warlord.” Epor responded, a bit too enthusiastically.

“No word for plague?” I asked.

I turned my head to look at Marcus, and my new helmet fell forward over my eyes, hitting my nose.

“It’s too big.” Gils said, a knowing tone in his voice. “Shall I get another one?”

Marcus moved forward, as I lifted the rim off my eyes, and I flinched as he drew closer. He stopped, and looked at me, then took a step back.

Isdra grunted as she worked to stuff me in a heavy leather jerkin, one that had been made for a warrior larger than I. “Take it off, and twist up your hair, Lara. We’ll use the braid to help cushion it.”

Gils took the helmet from me. “Perhaps some of the clean bandages would help.”

“What is ‘plague’?” Rafe asked. He was mounted, as were Epor and Prest, surrounding us and keeping watch. Epor had taken Keir at his word, and we’d moved to the rear to find the supply horses and Gils. While warriors were milling about us, we were far enough from the action to satisfy my guards. I was standing in the grass as they tried to fit me with various pieces of armor.

Once Keir had reclaimed me as Warprize, messengers had been sent to Simus and Othur at Water’s Fall. They had in turn sent a messenger with letters of relief and joy and pack horses full of my healing supplies and equipment, all carefully packed for the journey.

Keir and Sal explained that with an army of this size, the best way to insure that I always had supplies at hand was to split everything equally between four pack horses and spread them out. No matter where I was, one of the horses would be close by.

“Plague is a kind of illness that kills, and kills many people very quickly. It spreads…” My voice trailed off as I looked up into Rafe’s puzzled face.

“So, like winter sickness that spreads in the lodges. A misery, nothing more.” Marcus said as he rummaged in a saddle bag, pulling out some long leather bracers.

“What is winter sickness?” I asked, running my fingers back through my hair to start the braid. The long sleeves of the jerkin were stiff and uncomfortable.

“A misery to be endured, for a time.”

Gils cleared his throat, trying to interrupt. At my nod, he spoke. “It affects the body, Warprize, with coughing, and sweating and feeling bad.”

I blinked in the sunlight as the mounted force seemed to swirl around us. The worst these people suffered was head colds? I looked back at Marcus. “No, plague is an illness that kills young and old, healthy and sick. It spreads quickly, and is very dangerous.”

He gave me a doubtful look. “There are stories…” His frown deepened. “For us, injury kills. Accidents kill. Being cursed, or afflicted, those can kill. But the one afflicted takes themselves off, to live or die as the elements decree. But illness? Illness is uncomfortable, but not a matter of death.” He let out an exasperated snort.

Prest looked over at him. “Tell her the rest.”

“Rest?” I asked sharply.

Marcus shrugged. “There are tales told of city folk.”

“What kind of tales?”

Isdra finished the lacings on my jerkin, and stepped back to survey her work. The thick, stiff garment hung on me like a sack. She considered me, frowning. “Maybe if we belt it around the waist.”

“No need.” Epor spoke from his horse. “It’s not as if she has to fight in it, just ride.”

“What tales?” I demanded, impatient with them. What hadn’t I been told?

Rafe answered slowly. “We would not offend, Warprize.”

“Oh for Earth’s sake.” Isdra snorted. “We have a saying. ‘Raid them for their treasures, leave them in their filth.’ There are songs of cities found with their gates closed, the people lying dead in the streets from their filth and corruption. Punishment for their sullying of the elements.” She reached over to help me wind my braid on the top of my head, and put the helmet on. “I’ve walked the streets of your city, Warprize. While it was not perfect, it was not knee-deep in filth by any means.”

The rags that Gils had padded the helm with slipped down to dangle in my eyes. I felt incredibly stupid, but my fear was stronger than my dignity. I focused on Rafe as Isdra stuffed the cloth up under my helmet. “Rafe, when you go up to the gates, touch nothing and no one.”

“Yes, Warprize.”

“Gils, tear some cloth into small pieces and douse them with the oil in the green bottle.”

“Aye, Warprize.” Gils started to work. Isdra accepted the bracers from Marcus, placed one on my forearm and started to tighten the lacings. I tried to stand still, but it was frustrating not to be able to move.

“Gils, now add four drops from the slender blue bottle.” I watched him dribble the scented oil out slowly. “Let me smell it.”

Gils lifted the bowl to my face with two hands, wrinkling his nose. Isdra turned her head, and sneezed.

“Good,” It was strong enough. “Let them sit for a bit. Rafe, if someone comes out of the gates to talk, stay well away from them.”

“Yes, Warprize.”

“We’ll give you some vinegar. Wash your hands and face with it after you return, before you come back to us.”

“Yes, Warprize.”

“Now, take two of those cloths from the bowl, roll them up, and put them in your mouth, between the gum and cheek.”

Isdra had finished with the bracers, and she knelt to tie some kind of leather over my thigh and shin. Marcus, moving slowly, knelt at my other side and did the same.

“Er,” Rafe looked at the oil soaked cloths that Gils held out to him. I could smell the sharp scent of ginger from here. “Warprize, is this necessary?”

I pointed at my helmet. “Is this necessary?”

“Yes,” Rafe’s answer was prompt. “Death comes in an instant. All it takes is a stray arrow.”

“Then so is that.” I pointed at the cloth. “Oil of ginger acts to prevent the spread of the contagion. Healers keep slices of ginger in their mouths when they treat people with the plague. This is the best I can offer.”

Rafe nodded glumly, and stuffed the cloth in his mouth, screwing up his face at the taste.

“Now roll up two more pieces and put them up your nose.”

They all stopped and stared at me in consternation.

I glared at them and tapped my helmet.

Rafe tilted his head back, and roared with laughter, startling the horses. The others laughed as well.

“So be it, Warprize.” Rafe wiped his eyes and accepted two more pieces of cloth. “I will armor against your invisible foe. But I will wait until the enemy is a bit closer, eh?”

Marcus and Isdra stood and without thinking, I flinched back from Marcus. But this time I caught myself. “I’m sorry, Marcus. I don’t understand why—”

“I do.” He answered gruffly. “Think not on it, Lara.” His eyes regarded me steadily. “The fear will fade. But not the lesson, eh?”

“I will remember.”

Isdra had taken a step back, and put her hands on her hips to regard me. “It will serve.”

I felt the fool. “The enemy will die laughing.”

“So long as only the enemy dies.” Marcus growled. “Up now. We need to be ready when the Warlord calls us forward.”

We mounted up, with Gils scrambling to secure the pack horse with the healing supplies. The leather jerkin was chafing at the back of my neck, and I shrugged, trying to get comfortable. How did these people wear this all the time? But then I looked over at Rafe, wiping his eyes, probably from the fumes. I sighed, and resolved to live with the discomfort of my armor. At least for now.

As we moved out, Prest leaned over, and handed me a small wooden shield. I took it, surprised at its weight. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

He grinned at me, his teeth white against his dark skin. “Hide behind it.”

Iften had moved his warforce into position, ready to strike like a sharp knife. The warriors were poised, lances rattling in the quivers attached to their saddles. Their horses were churning the ground with their hooves, eager to run. My horse, on the other hand, was drowsing, his head hanging low.

From where I’d been positioned, I could see the village, with the ‘P’ on the gates, the blood now dried and brown. It looked small and vulnerable to my eyes.

“All right, Lara. I say again, what is ‘plague’?”

Keir sat next to me on his horse, in full battle gear. Those blue eyes that had been soft and warm in our bower under the alders were cold and hard.

Having talked to the others, I was ready for Keir’s disbelief. I described a plague, and told him the precautions the village would have taken. “To a Xyian, the ‘P’ on the gates is a warning of horror and death.”

“We know nothing such as that.” Keir offered, staring at me intently. Iften was seated next to him, but he said nothing, choosing instead to glare at me through his blackening eye. I returned Keir’s look calmly, never so conscious of the gulf between us as that moment. Were we so very different? And if so, could we ever truly understand each other? My fears surged a hundredfold, for it meant that he had no understanding of what he faced.

I gestured toward the village, careful to keep my head still so that the helmet would stay in place. “Keir, the plague is a danger greater than any army, and your weapons are useless against it.” I’ll never know why, maybe the look on my face, but thank the Goddess, Keir listened. He turned his head and looked at Rafe. “Has she told you what to do?”

“At least ten times,” Rafe flashed us a grin, his eyes still watering. “I’ve donned my armor, Warlord, against the Warprize’s invisible foe.” His voice sounded odd, what with the cloth in his nostrils and mouth. “I’m ready.”

“The skies be with you.”

With that, Rafe turned his horse, and started toward the walls at a walk. We’d gone over the various words for illness and plague, and Rafe had repeated them to me. He was to approach the gates, learn what he could, and report.

I shifted in my saddle, making the leather creak beneath me, startling my horse. He flicked his ears back, and I patted his neck to reassure him. I’d have to think of a name for him.

I looked out, and Rafe seemed to have barely advanced. Another fidget on my part drew Epor’s attention. He had positioned himself on my right, by my horse’s head. He turned his head so that he could see me from the corner of his eye. “Warprize, if an arrow flies, we’ll head for the rear, away from the combat. Is that clear?”

I nodded, which just made the helmet tip forward and block my vision. I pulled it back into place. “I understand.”

“A pity,” Isdra’s low comment came over my shoulder. “He’s never tied a warprize to a tree before.”

The chuckle from the others made me smile too, a bit ruefully. Somehow I didn’t think it would take much on my part to get Epor to make good on Keir’s threat.

As Rafe continued to amble down the road, fear clutched at my heart. What if I was wrong? What if the villagers were defying the Warlord? If so, they were defying me as well. Queen of Xy, I’d made the decision to bind our peoples together. Or at least to unite with Keir for that reason. They could be resisting my decrees as well as breaking their oaths to Keir.

If so, this army was poised to teach them the error of their ways. I had no false notions as to the strength of the village’s walls, or their weapons. Keir would kill everyone, and burn the village to the ground, as an example as well as a punishment. When word went back to Water’s Fall, what effect would that have on my people? My Council?

Yet I almost prayed for a rebellion. Better that than plague. Goddess above, how could I explain the dangers to a people whose worst illness was a head cold? Plague respected no boundaries, no rank, or worthiness. You couldn’t rush the treatment of plague either, forty days being required to assure that the contagion was gone. How could I tell Keir that he’d have to wait that long?

I shifted the shield on my arm so that it rested in a different place on my thigh. How did they carry these heavy things all the time?

There was another factor, one that I didn’t even want to admit to myself. The last plague to afflict Water’s Fall had been the sweat some twenty years past. I’d been a babe at the time, and been told that I’d had a minor case that I’d recovered from quickly.

Could I deal with this on my own? Never mind that the supplies I had with me might not be enough, that was an entirely separate issue. Could I diagnose and treat an entire village?

My horse sensed my unease, shifted his weight and stamped his front foot. I patted him again, letting him settle down. Maybe something from the Epic of Xyson would do. I frowned trying to recall what Xyson had named his battlesteed. Blackheart? Stoneheart? Something-heart. I had a copy with me, I’d look and see. Of course, that horse had been a warrior, a true battlesteed. I smiled as I felt my horse shift its weight, and lower its head, clearly about to take a nap.

I felt my shoulders relax a bit too. I’d learned at the hands of Eln, a true Master of the healing arts. I’d learned the symptoms of the four major plagues, could recall their history back to Xypar, some five generations back. We’d had warning before being exposed, messengers could be sent, help would arrive.

But like Gils, confronted by a living, breathing, wiggling patient for the first time, I had my doubts.

‘The first rule is to never let them see your doubt.’ Eln’s voice whispered in the back of my head. ‘You try. That is all you can do. All any of us can do.’

I smiled at the mental image of my master, but the smile faded from my face.

Rafe had reached the gates.

He seemed so small, seated on his horse before the walls. He was staying at least a horse length away from the structure. I saw him tilt his head, and call out to the villagers, the faint echo of his voice reaching us on the wind. I held my breath, but no heads appeared, no rocks, no arrows. Just silence, and the sound of the warriors around us.

Rafe called again, and then set his horse to walking back and forth in front of the gates as he stared at the wooden structure. I held my breath, and then had to breathe again and again as he stood before the walls and called. My sorrow grew as the silence did. How many were dead? Or dying?

Keir signaled to Ortis, who put his head back and warbled a cry. Rafe raised a hand, turned his horse and headed back to us.

At the midway point, he stopped as instructed, took out the bottle of vinegar, and leaning over, washed his hands and face with it. I’d told him to repeat the action, and watched as he did it four times. I could just make out his lips moving at this distance, and I was sure he was invoking each of the elements.

Once that was done he rode up to us, his face red from the scrubbing. “Warlord, there was no response, no sound, no movement that I could see through the chinks in the gates.”

Keir nodded. “My thanks. Return to your guard duties.”

Rafe grimaced, spat the cloths out of his mouth and snorted them from his nose. “Warlord, I’d ask leave to go plunge myself in the nearest stream. The Warprize’s precautions are almost more that a warrior can bear.” He looked at me through swollen eyes. “That’s a truth, Warprize, whether or not I hold your token.”

Keir nodded his approval, and Rafe took off like a startled bird.

“So.” Keir looked out at the village. “Iften.”

“Warlord.”

“Disband the warforce. Tell Wesren to make camp for the night, away from these walls. In the fields beyond that willow, perhaps. His decision.”

Iften glowered, but made no objection. He turned his horse and left us, calling to his men.

Keir continued to sit, staring at the village as the war-force melted away. “Brave people, to enclose themselves within those walls and wait for death.” A shudder went through him. “I doubt I could do the same.”

“Wait for death?” I replied, sharper than I intended. “Not if I can help it.”

“How so?” Keir asked mildly. I wasn’t fooled, for his gaze was sharp. “How can you help them?”

“By going in there, of course.”

Keir gave me a long, incredulous look. I returned it unflinchingly. There was no change in his expression, he just reached out and grabbed the reins near my horse’s chin. “No.” Without another word, he turned the horses and started to follow the warriors. Marcus and the others moved into position around us.

“Keir—”

“No, Lara.” He didn’t even look at me as he led the horses forward.

I threw my leg over, grabbed the saddle with both hands and slid to the ground. My horse’s pace was enough that I stumbled back a step or two as I landed, enough to throw Prest’s horse off his stride. Isdra got hers stopped and the look she gave me almost made me laugh out loud.

But Keir’s face choked off my mirth. His face was a storm cloud building in the sky, dark and angry, and his eyes the lightning. He dismounted and stalked over to me, leaving the horses to stand where they were.

Prest leaned down to push a strip of privacy bells into my hand. I closed my fingers around them, but never took my eyes off Keir.

“There aren’t enough bells in all the tribes…” Marcus let his voice trail off as he and Isdra pulled away, as Epor and Prest did the same. They gave us plenty of room, but kept their watch just the same. I wasn’t sure why, since the biggest danger of all was standing, towering over me, the muscle in his lower jaw pulsing with his anger.

“What means this?”

“Keir, we have to help these people.”

“Didn’t you just finish telling me the dangers of this plague? Of the deaths it causes? ‘A danger greater than any army’ That is what you said.” Keir ran a hand over his face. “Why would you even think to enter those gates?”

“To aid the sick, and care for the dying. To learn which plague it is, and where it came from. Keir, it may already be in the kingdom. We must warn Simus and Othur and Eln. The more information we have, the better prepared—”

“No.” Keir cut me off and started to pace, moving with his usual grace. His horse watched us carefully. Mine had fallen asleep again, his head hanging, ears flopping over, eyes closed. He’d put all his weight on his left leg, his right hind foot cocked behind him.

Keir cut through my line of sight. “We must be at the Heart of the Plains as soon as possible. Your confirmation must take place as soon as possible. If we delay, we lose our advantage.”

“Keir, these people swore an oath of fealty to you, an oath you demanded. Winning Xy as a fiefdom doesn’t just mean taking the spoils. It also means taking responsibility for the people of Xy.” I pulled the uncomfortable helmet off, letting the bandages fall to the ground and ran my fingers through my hair to untangle the braid. “The oaths flow both ways.”

“We pass it by, flow around it as the stream flows past a stone. Acknowledging their sacrifice, but keeping clear of the danger.”

“We can’t do that. We need information. The army may already be exposed since you’ve traded with the farmers that we have passed. I am a healer; I have sworn oaths to aid those in need. I have to go in there.” I smiled at him. “A healer goes where she is needed. To a Warlord’s side or into a stricken village.”

“That’s insane. You are the link between our peoples; the only Queen of Xy and the only Warprize. I will not risk you.”

“I swore oaths when I claimed my Mastery. As you did when you became a Warlord. They require me to serve these people.”

“It’s more important for your people that you become the Warprize.”

“Keir, Xy was a nation of traders and merchants in my great-grandfather’s time. But the plague swept through the land and decimated the people. It killed so many that the trade routes through the mountains were closed. The Xy you conquered is a far cry from the rich land of the past.”

He turned, looking down at the gates, radiating fury.

I stepped next to him. “If plague has returned, we must give them aid, and learn as much as we can. We need to send word back to Water’s Fall.”

“What need?” Keir looked skeptical. “It will stay where it is, caught within those walls.”

“No.” I rubbed my hand over my sweaty neck. “If they are that sick, they can’t even tend to the dead, Keir.”

He grimaced, knowing all too well what that meant. “We will send for aid from Water’s Fall. They can be here within five or six days.”

“We can’t wait that long. If we wait for help from Water’s Fall, we may only have dead bodies and no one to tell us what happened and how. I must go, Keir, and now.”

He glared at me.

“I am a healer, and these people, your people, need my help.”

“These people are not worth one drop of your blood.”

I looked at him steadily until he looked away. “You are thinking as a lover, Warlord.”

His head snapped back, and his eyes flashed. “I am a lover, Warprize.”

My cheeks flushed at that, but I didn’t give ground. “If your people had the healing skills, you would aid them.”

“Do you understand what you are saying?” Keir growled.

“I understand exactly what I am saying, Keir. My people need yours, for protection now that our forces have been exhausted, for links to trade, for our future. My people have enough to see them through this winter but they will need every bit of harvest that can be salvaged from the fields to survive. If it is plague, if it spreads from here…” I closed my eyes against that possibility. “Why do you send scouts out, if not to know what you are going to have to deal with? We have to know and the only way to know is if I go in.”

“There must be another—”

I glared at him. “And if it gets to the Plains? What of your people? Will the warrior priests aid them?”

He stopped, jaw clenched, shoulders tight, his hands in fists. He started to curse and the words that poured from him at that point were not ones that I knew. He stopped, breathing hard. “There must be another way.” He resumed his stalk, and started ranting. I’d not expected this to be easy, and it wasn’t. As he paced, he repeated each of his arguments and I refuted them again, knowing that I was right. I started to work on the jerkin’s lacings. These heavy leather garments were warm, and it was chaffing my neck. How did they wear this armor all the time?

Finally he spun to look at me, and jabbed a finger in my direction. “We can send Gils. He—”

“You’d send a boy to do a man’s job?”

He flared like a fire doused with oil. “You are the last living member of the House of Xy. I’ll not risk you. I’ll not risk what we are trying to do for our people.” He took a step closer, and I fought the urge to step back. “I’ll not risk all this for a tiny village. Who will know? Who will see?” He turned, headed for our horses.

“The skies will know.”

He stopped dead, his back to me, his hands clenched in fists.

My heart in my throat, I continued. “The Goddess will know.”

The silence between us lengthened. There was no sound, not even the bells in my hand. Just the wind, whipping at the grass and my hair.

The tension left his hands first, as his clenched fingers slowly uncurled. Then his back and neck lost their stiffness as he took a deep breath. I moved the bells in my hand, letting them chime softly.

He turned and walked back to me, a rueful look on his face. “I should have known. From the moment you defied me in the marketplace, I should have known. There is more honor and stubbornness in one slight Xyian woman than in my entire army.”

“Slight?” I raised an eyebrow.

He smiled, and raised a hand to cup my face.

“Keir, leaving these people would be as big a mistake as—”

“As when I plunged my sword in Durst’s chest.”

I nodded.

“I would not do this, my heart’s fire.” Keir stroked my lips with his thumb.

“All the other alternatives are worse. There is no choice, Keir.” I stepped closer, and wrapped my arms around him. He enfolded me in his, and we stood for a long moment, a long moment of fragile peace.

I stepped back, finally. “I have to talk to Gils.”

“We’ll have him at the senel.” Keir looked off in the distance, toward the army. “A few days delay will not be that great a loss.”

I opened my mouth to correct him, but closed it as he turned back to me. “Come, Lara. Let us be about this as quickly as possible.”

I took his hand without saying a word and we walked back to the horses.

If Iften didn’t remove that smug look from his face, Keir was going to do it for him.

The senel had been called, under the same willow tree. The warleaders were gathered, and Marcus had managed a meal of warm gurt and fry bread. Kavage was brewing on a fire, and the smell of it filled the air. But I could barely choke down my food, my stomach was so tense. Now that Keir had made the decision I was eager to go, to find out what we were facing. If I left soon, I’d have daylight to take stock and talk to the remaining villagers. Please Goddess, let there be living souls within those gates. Xy had stories too, just as the Firelanders did, of whole towns filled with the dead and dying. Not here, Lady of the Moon and Stars. Please.

But before I could go, there were things I had to tell them, had to teach them. I couldn’t leave an entire army unprepared for the realities of a plague. But before I could teach them anything, I had to convince them of the threat. Gils was seated by my side, wide-eyed as he listened. His thin body trembled with suppressed excitement.

Keir’s announcement that we would aid the village was met with puzzled looks by some and pure disdain by others. “Leave them to rot in their filth,” was Iften’s contribution and it was met with almost complete agreement.

But it was the statement that I would go into the village that caused that smirk on Iften’s face. He remained silent as the others protested and argued, handing Keir’s token from one to another. They made the same arguments that Keir had made to me, and Keir patiently went through everything again, refuting them as I had done to him. Only when Keir had finished, and there was an uneasy silence did Iften speak. “How brave and noble is the Warprize to go to the aid of the cursed.” His tone was silky and insulting.

“Will you match her courage and offer to go with her?” Keir countered. There was an odd sound to his voice, and I was certain that swords were about to be drawn.

Joden’s voice cut through the tension. “So it’s true then, the songs of old, that tell of cities laid waste by illness.”

“It’s rare, Joden,” I reassured him, making sure that my voice hid my fears.

“Can horses get it?” Aret leaned forward a bit, a worried look on her face.

“Not that I’ve ever heard of, Aret.”

“But city folk do not live with their horses as we do,” Uzaina countered.

“Maybe our people do not catch this illness?” Wesren asked, sounding wishful.

“The medicines of the Warprize work on our people. I fear that the illness will as well.” Keir sighed. “I can’t risk that. I will not risk taking this to the Plains. Can you imagine it among the children and the theas?”

Iften snorted, waving his hand over the group. “We are all hale and well, Warlord. There is no trace of this ‘plague’ among us.”

“But we’ve traded with farmers along the way, and there was contact while we were encamped outside the city walls. The Warprize has said that there is a waiting period to insure that the illness is gone.”

There was a stir toward the back, and Tsor rose. He was a big man, with long thick black hair. “Warprize, I would ask for your token.”

I looked at him in surprise, startled that he’d feel that he needed a token in his hand. Gils nudged me, and slipped a small jar of fever’s foe into my hand. I held it up, and Tsor stepped forward to take it. “I hold your token, Warprize. I give voice to one truth.”

“I will speak to your truth.” I said, curious to hear him.

“Warprize, I have seen the healing that you have done, and I have heard the words of the Warlord. I would not offend, but I am troubled. We of the Plains have a strong tradition of passing down our knowledge by the words of our theas and our Singers. But your people, they rely on words that are on ‘paper’ and in ‘books’.” He used the Xyian words slowly, as he played with the small jar in his hands. “You keep your wisdom in these things. And you do not have a ‘book’ here to tell you of the past.” He cleared his throat, and shifted his weight, clearly uncomfortable. “Perhaps your memory is wrong?”

There were soft gasps around the gathering, and even Keir sucked in a slow breath. Marcus was glaring at the man as if he’d insulted me, and maybe to their way of thinking he had. Gils sat up straight, indignant. I put a hand on his shoulder, afraid that he would do something rash.

“Tsor, it’s true that my people put their learning into ‘books’ in order to save it. But the lessons learned from them are well learned, especially on the subject of ‘plague’.” I let my gaze travel over the group. “My teacher was Eln of Water’s Fall, and he insisted that we learn and know the—” I had to pause, they have no word for ‘symptom’. “The signs to look for and how to treat them.”

Tsor, still holding the jar, opened his mouth but I wasn’t done. “I can’t say that my memory is as good as yours. But my knowledge and my skill are from years of learning and doing. You understand?” I looked at him closely as he nodded. “Have I answered your truth?”

“You have, Warprize.” He handed the jar back to me, and sat back down.

“So.” Keir spoke. “We will aid the village. Wesren, this will be an extended camp. See to it.”

Wesren was nodding, but Yers stood, his face thoughtful. “I’d ask the Warprize what to expect from the weather at this time of year.”

I thought for a moment. “The Goddess’s Lace won’t be for a few weeks, Yers.” I could tell that he didn’t understand. “The first hard frost. We say that the Goddess is weaving the lace for her wedding. The snows start a few weeks after that.”

It was clear that my explanation had confused him further. “So it will continue to get colder as the days shorten?” When I nodded, he grunted and sat down.

Sal spoke up. “Warlord, if we are to be here for any length of time, I must need supplement the supplies. How long will the time be, before we can safely move on?”

Keir turned to look at me. “Warprize?”

I licked my lips, and my eyes fell to my lap. “Forty days.”

All I could hear was the beating of my heart in my ears. I looked over, to see that Keir’s face had turned to stone. My breath caught in my throat, and a sick pit opened in my stomach.

Iften’s smug look was an open grin. “You would delay forty days?”

Marcus frowned when Keir failed to respond, his gaze shifting from my face to Keir’s. I froze, terrified that I’d gone too far. I’d lured him into this trap, but what choice did I have? The people of the village needed my help. But I’d seen his anger before. Would he support me, or—

“For the safety of our people.” His voice a rasp, Keir turned his head to look at Sal, letting me see the small muscles in his jaw clenching. “Forty days. Plan accordingly.”

Coward that I am, I avoided Keir and kept Gils at my side after the senel. Marcus had gathered all of the pack horses, and Gils and I split the supplies evenly between us. I talked to him as we worked, going through the various plagues and their treatments. I’d already prepared the letters for Othur and Eln and the messengers had left for Water’s Fall at a gallop, with strict instructions to throw the letters to the guards at the gate. I was fairly certain that within a few days, a week at the most, Gils would have help.

Gils listened earnestly, his gaze locked on my face, absorbing my words. He nodded fiercely, and repeated things back to me, constantly reassuring me that he would be watchful and that he would remember what I said.

As we worked, I was aware of a brooding presence close by. Keir had not spoken to me, but I felt his gaze scorch the back of my neck.

Keir had gathered Marcus, Joden, Epor, Isdra, Rafe and Prest near him, and they were talking quietly. I didn’t know what they were discussing, but there were occasional glances in my direction. I continued with my work, conscious of the tension in my shoulders and neck and that my feet were starting to throb.

It was only when Gils and I had finished that Keir stood, and stalked over to me. The others followed, their faces grim.

“I am ready to go.” I had one of the horses. Gils had kept the others. Keir’s eyes pierced me, but I kept my gaze steady. I’d come too far to break down now.

“You will not go alone.” Keir gestured, and Epor and Isdra stepped forward. “They will accompany you.”

“Keir, it’s too dangerous. They—”

“No.” He cut me off, leaving no room for argument. “We have seen no sick or dying. It could still be an ambush. You will have warriors by your side, or you will not go.”

“We have chosen this, Warprize.” Isdra’s voice was reassuring.

“To face an invisible enemy? What songs they will sing of us, eh?” Epor smiled. “Joden is already humming under his breath.”

Joden shrugged and everyone except Keir chuckled uneasily. Keir’s face was still a stone, marred only by the tiny pulsing muscle in his jaw.

“There is one more thing.” I paused, not sure how to phrase this request.

“Whatever it is, I am sure you will have your way, even if you have to lie to make it so.” Keir spat.

There was a pause, and the others started to step back, as if anticipating the bells. But Keir raised his hand. “No.”

Everyone stopped. Gils flushed a bright red, and was staring at his feet. My face was hot, but I didn’t drop my eyes.

“Speak.”

“We need to arrange signals. To let you know what kind of plague it is. To communicate what is happening. Because as soon as we know the kind of plague, we will need to send someone to Water’s Fall to shout the news to them. Those warbling cries, maybe?”

Joden smiled. “They are used in battle, or in the hunt, Warprize. They are not meant for talk. But let us see what we can do.”

Thankfully, with their memories, it didn’t take long to assign new meaning to the calls. I thought up as many contingencies as I could, then cleared my throat. “We need one more. For if all three of us sicken and all the villagers are dead. We must set fire to the village and kill ourselves, to prevent the spread of the disease.”

Keir’s face was stark. The others were grim. Joden spoke softly. “I thought mercy was not your way, Lara.”

“It is not, Joden. But I will not allow this illness to spread. To your people or to mine.” I looked at Epor and Isdra. “Do you understand what you are risking?”

“We do.” They spoke together.

“And do you swear to—”

Keir broke in. “You are not yet confirmed, Warprize. Do not exceed your authority.”

I glared at him. “But I am a Master Healer. They have to promise—”

“They will do what must needs be done.” Keir’s look was chilling.

I dropped my eyes and tugged at the horse’s reins. “We need to go. We are losing the light.”

We rode in silence to the point where we could see the village gates clearly. There was no change, no sign that our presence had been noted or ignored.

We all dismounted, except for Keir. Isdra took the reins of the pack horse we’d loaded with supplies. I turned to my apprentice and smiled at him. “Gils—”

Gils launched himself at me, and squeezed me tight. I heard a faint whisper in my ear. “I’s make you proud, Lara. I’s swear it.” He stepped back and gave me a smile, red hair gleaming in the sun. “Skies watch over you, Warprize.”

Marcus stood there, looking unhappy and worried. “And now is when you stuff the cloths up your nose, yes?”

I nodded, too choked up to speak, and hugged him. “Take care of Keir.”

“Always. But who will care for you?” He asked gruffly as I stepped back.

Keir was on his horse, as cold and remote as the mountains that surrounded us. He didn’t look at me as he spoke. “Skies be with you.”

I took a deep breath, and waited. Keir didn’t look down.

Resigned, I turned away. I accepted the bowl that Gils held out, and Isdra and Epor and I stuffed the cloths in our nose and mouths. “Hope they leave this part out of the song.” Epor grumbled as we moved off. I was thankful for the sharp ginger in my mouth, coming up through my nose as I breathed. It explained the tears in my eyes.

There was a noise behind us. I turned, only to see Gils take a few steps to catch my horse, who had started to fol-low us down the road. The horse protested a bit, but settled under Gils’s hand. Keir didn’t move at all, and I turned back toward the village. Isdra and Epor were right behind.

We were almost to the gates when I couldn’t take it anymore.

I stopped and looked back.

Isdra and Epor gave me a knowing look, but kept walking.

Keir was off his horse, and Marcus was next to him, his hand on Keir’s shoulder. Gils was leading my horse back to the other horses. As I watched, Keir raised his hand.

I smiled, and raised my hand as well. Then I raised the other, and slowly brought them close to intertwine my fingers to form a fist. I hoped Keir remembered when he had done that in the command tent, when he announced his intent to weave our people together. I hoped he understood.

He seemed to, since he raised his hand a bit higher in acknowledgment. At this distance it was hard to tell, but he looked stricken to me somehow. As if I’d taken all his hopes with me.

Which I had.

Tears in my eyes, I lowered my hands and turned away to follow the others. I didn’t look back this time. I didn’t trust myself not to run back and throw myself in his arms.

And I didn’t trust him not to tie me to a tree.