“Please call me ‘Lara’,” I asked. “Xylara is my formal name, but I prefer ‘Lara’.”
“You honor me.” Liam put his kavage down. “Is it true, Lara, that you can raise the dead?”
“No.” I shook my head and glared at him. “Is this because of what happened with the baby?”
“The word of the winds is that you brought the babe back from the snows,” Liam explained. “That you did that because the babe was Xyian, while all the other dead were of the Plains.”
The kavage in my stomach turned sour in an instant. I sat there horrified, and stared at him.
“I would not offend, Lara. But you need to know what is said.”
“I would never—” My voice cracked as I choked on my words. “If I had the power, Liam, I’d use it for the good of both our peoples. The oaths that I have taken as a healer demand that. But I do not,” my voice cracked at the very idea. “I cannot raise the dead.”
Liam stared at me intently. “The babe—”
“That the babe revived was the blessing of the Goddess, or the elements.” I put my mug down and ran my fingers through my hair. “I was tired, we were all exhausted, Liam. I’m not even sure that the babe had really stopped breathing.” I shrugged. “But I make no claim to be so powerful.”
“I believe you, Lara.” Liam nodded. “So, among your people, healing is freely offered? To any?”
Grateful for the change of topic, I started to explain our ways. Liam listened intently, asking a few questions, but he clearly was having problems understanding some of the Xyian concepts. Money being one of the them.
“What would be the purpose?” he asked. “I cannot eat your ‘coin’, cannot wear it, or use it to hunt food. So why would I take ‘coins’ in exchange for anything? Far better to trade and barter, than to ‘pay’.”
I was trying to make an argument, when there was a cough outside. “Ah, the meat is ready.” Liam sat up straighter on his pillow. “And all this talk has my stomach growling.”
I laughed, as the warriors approached with meat and flat bread. There were grains, too, but I recognized the small red flakes in their midst, and took careful bites.
We talked as we ate, and I realized that I was enjoying myself. Liam had seen warriors playing chess, and started to pepper me with questions about the rules. As the dishes were removed, nothing would satisfy him but that we play a game. “I know your memory is not like ours,” he spoke eagerly as he pulled a wooden box out from under the platform. “So I bartered for this.”
He pulled out the first piece with a flourish and pressed it into my hand. I studied it as he set the rest out on the board. The carving was amazing. It was a fierce warrior of the Plains on a galloping horse, poised to fling a lance at his opponent. But it was plain wood, with no color distinction.
Then I glanced at the board and realized that it wouldn’t be a problem telling the pieces apart. One side was the Firelanders, clearly, lean and fierce warriors of both sexes, armed to the teeth. The others were all chubby city-dwellers, unarmored, with no weapons, cowering in fear of their attackers. Even the castles looked afraid somehow.
I arched an eyebrow at Liam, and he had the grace to look embarrassed. “The set is well carved,” he offered as if in apology.
I chuckled. “Well, let’s just see how you fare against me, Warlord.”
The first game went swiftly, with myself as the winner. Thankfully, Liam hadn’t learned all the strategies as of yet. I checkmated him, and then settled back with my fresh kavage as he studied the board, trying to find his mistake.
The warrior serving us had entered with a plate of small buns. “Are those bread tarts?” I asked, reaching for one.
“They are, Warprize.” The warrior gave me a quick smile, putting the plate next to me. “You should have moved your ehat sooner,” he chided Liam in a soft voice. “She couldn’t use her mounted warrior then.”
Liam grunted, “Go away.”
I bit into the bun, and there was a familiar explosion of spice in my mouth. Spicy, yet sweet. The taste took me back to the first time I’d seen a pattern dance, when Marcus had been so proud of his treat. “This is so good!”
Liam looked up, and reached for one. “They are one of my favorites.”
The warrior smiled at me. “I was taught to cook them by a master.”
Liam’s face stilled as the warrior bowed and left us.
“He’s right, you know.” I nodded to the board. “You should have moved your ehat to block me.”
The odd expression on Liam’s face was still there.
He picked up the ehat, and ran his thumb over the detailed carving. He seemed distracted somehow.
“Another game?” I reached out to set the pieces in their positions.
Liam didn’t look up. Instead he kept his gaze on the ehat and cleared his throat. “Lara? How does Marcus?”
His tone was offhand, as if it didn’t really matter, but something gave me pause. “You know Marcus?”
He looked up then, those hazel eyes flooded with pain. I drew a breath, as he turned away, and I could clearly see the bonded piercings, the wire running along the outside of the ear, the beads and small trinkets woven within.
I sat my mug down, dazed.
Isdra nodded, then took a deep breath. “Lara, Marcus was bonded.”
“Really?” I jerked my head around, to spot Marcus behind us. His chin was on his chest, and he appeared to be sleeping in the saddle as his horse walked along. “But his ear—” I stopped myself. His left ear had been burned away in the accident that left him scarred.
Isdra nodded again. “Aye, his ear spiral melted away with his flesh. I do not know the details, Lara.”
“Oh, Goddess. Was she killed, Isdra?”
Isdra shook her head. “I will say no more, Lara. For lack of knowledge, and for courtesy.”
“Goddess,” I breathed out. “You are Marcus’s bonded.”
Liam jerked his head in a nod, but didn’t look at me.
I had to remind myself to breathe. And breathe again. Marcus was bonded. Marcus was bonded to a...
My world seemed to shift around me, as if all of my assumptions of the world were wrong. I breathed again, and remembered to speak. My voice sounded like it was coming from a long way away. “He is well, when last I saw him, when I asked that he be my Guardian.”
“You did?” Liam smiled. “I had not heard that. I bet that caused a furor.”
“It did.” I frowned suddenly. “Is that why you rejected him? Because of his—”
The room went ice-cold in a moment, and those hazel eyes pierced right through me. This was a Warlord of the Plains that sat before me, and he was well and truly angry. “Were you of the Plains, I’d kill you for that insult.”
I bit my lip, but didn’t look away. “Then why?”
“By Marcus’s choice,” he snapped as he slammed the ehat piece down and rose to his feet. He started to pace, back and forth before the platform, a very angry Warlord of the Plains. But I felt no fear.
His anger was aimed at himself.
“ ‘This worthless carcass is not your bonded,’” Liam snarled. “That is what the stubborn, stupid man told me.” He talked with his hands, gesturing to the air. “I begged him to return to me until he threatened to go to the snows, regardless of his oath to Keir.” Liam stopped and rubbed his face with his hands. “It’s two campaigns now since I’ve seen him.”
I caught my breath. “Two years?”
Liam let out a ragged breath. “He serves Keir. And never comes to the Heart.” My face showed my thought, and Liam caught it in an instant. “He’s here, isn’t he?”
I nodded, picking up the poor abused ehat figure. “I’ve seen him.”
“Do you know how hard that is for him?” Liam shook his head, and crossed his arms over his chest. “His loyalty to Keir is absolute.” He examined me intently. “And to you as well, it seems.”