I bowed my head, hiding my face with a curtain of hair. If I said something, Marcus might not understand, but he might not make me wear the dress. Trous would raise eyebrows, certainly, but this dress would have the lord and ladies of the Court collapsing with seizures. I didn’t want to offend him, but I couldn’t wear this. In the back of my head I heard Great Aunt Xydella’s quavery voice. ‘Speak up, child.’ She’d say. ‘I can’t read minds.’ Of course Great Aunt Xydella would have worn the dress and loved every outrageous minute of it.
I bit my lip, then opened my mouth. “Marcus—”
Keir walked into the tent and stopped short. His eyes widened, and his face lit up. “Fire’s blessing.” He stood, looking at me with approval.
I swallowed what I had been about to say.
Keir made a gesture, and I turned slowly, allowing him to see it. “Marcus, where did you find such a dress?”
Marcus drew himself up and arched his eyebrow. “The clothing of one woman is a task well within my skills, Warlord.”
Keir smiled and acknowledged Marcus with a slight bow. “I stand corrected, old man.” He straightened. He was outfitted in full chain that held a high gloss, with a black cape edged in fur. The hilts of his swords peeked over his shoulders. He moved to stand before me, a look of pride on his face. He held out his hands, and there were the bracelets that I had worn at the surrender ceremony.
I stiffened and looked away. They lay open in his hands, heavy silver symbols of my status. I didn’t look up, for fear that I would betray my feelings. I simply extended my wrists and kept my head down as he snapped them into place. They felt heavy, like the bindings they were, and I let the weight pull my arms down to my sides.
There was a slight pause. Then Keir asked, “Is there a cloak, as well?”
There was, thankfully as black as Keir’s own. I took it from Marcus, who looked at me with a puzzled expression. I put on the cloak as I followed Keir out into the evening air.
The dress was even brighter in the sun. If that were possible.
Our escort awaited us. There were ten mounted men, besides Rafe and Prest. Rafe was holding the horses. Rafe and Prest were also in their best armor, and they gleamed in the afternoon sun. Rafe’s face lit up when he saw me. Prest turned, and a smile spread over his face. Rafe handed me the reins of one of the horses. “Warprize, you look—”
Keir coughed.
Rafe didn’t miss a beat. “Well. Very well.” He mounted his horse, as did Keir and Prest.
I had some difficulty, trying to get the skirt in the correct position, but managed to get up and into the saddle. I gathered the reins and turned, only to find everyone looking at me in varying degrees of dismay.
“What?” I asked, puzzled.
Prest just shook his head. Rafe sucked in a breath. “The way you sit—”
Keir looked at me sternly. “You should have told me you can’t ride.”
I frowned. “I can ride.”
They looked at me, scanning me from head to toe. I sat up a little straighter, but all three shook their heads. The others in our escort all seemed to be very busy adjusting their tunics and weapons. Almost as if they were embarrassed for me.
Prest frowned. “Maybe a pregnant mare?”
Rafe looked toward the city. “We could walk the horses—”
Keir shook his head. “It would take too long. She can ride double with me.”
“This is ridiculous.” I gathered the reins, clicked my tongue, and urged the horse on.
Nothing happened.
Now the guards by the tent were looking at me, shaking their heads. Prest grabbed for my reins, as if afraid the horse would run away with me. Keir moved his horse along side mine, planning to snatch me from the saddle, but I was having none of that. Whore I may look, Warprize I may be, but I’d be damned before I was taken to the ceremony like a helpless child.
Rafe pulled his horse to the side, and I saw what he was doing. He used his toes under the horse’s front legs, instead of his heels, and seemed to shift his weight forward. I did the same, and the horse obliged with a few steps forward. I fended off Prest and Keir and urged the beast on.
Keir’s voice came from behind me. “It’s not safe. You will ride with me.”
I shifted forward again, and the horse broke into a trot.
There were calls from behind me, but I was not going to stop. I could ride. I headed down the path through the tents, toward the road to the city. It didn’t take long for Keir and the others to catch up and form up around me. Rafe was still muttering about my skill, and Prest had a frown on his face, but I noticed that Keir had that look of pride again as he passed me to take the lead.
There were workers in the fields that we passed, and I gave them no notice at first. But the closer we came to the city walls, the more my awareness grew. They weren’t harvesting or preparing the ground for the spring. They were still gathering the dead. It had been days since the fighting had stopped, yet still they moved about in their work.
Were there so many dead?
I had to focus on the road before me, couldn’t look at the men with the carts any longer. I clenched my jaw. The peace had to hold, I had to do my part. Or there’d be more bodies, more lives wasted. If that meant I never heard my name again, so be it. Such a small price to pay.
Our appearance at the main gates of the city caused quite a stir. The ceremony was still some hours away, and from the reaction of the guard, we were not expected so soon. The gates were normally kept open for the merchant traffic. They had been closed due to the war, and apparently were being kept closed. The Warlord drew up to the gates and stopped.
The head guard stepped forward. “Hail, Warlord. Do you wish an escort or crier through the city?”
“My thanks, but no. The warprize knows the way.”
The guard glanced at me, and his eyes bulged out. I looked away. We sat in silence for a moment as he stared.
“The gate,” Keir growled.
The guard started, then gave a shout for the gate to be opened and the portcullis raised. As soon as the way was clear, we headed into the city. The only crowds were the normal crowds of a market day. Keir brought his horse up short and looked over his shoulder at me with a question in his eyes. I moved my horse up next to his. “Is there something you wish to tell me?”
“Tell you?” I flushed slightly.
He narrowed his eyes, and studied me. Finally he turned away. “Would there be time to see more of the city? I have only seen the main road.”
I nodded and pointed off to our left. “That will take us along the west wall, and eventually to the palace.”
Keir gave me a sly smile. “Where is the shop that sells the vanilla?”
“Close to where the tinker’s cart was.”
He nodded, looking around. “We will head that way. What is a ‘crier’?”
I smiled. “Someone who walks in front of your horse, crying out your name and title. Usually used by someone who thinks he is of great importance and is afraid no one knows it.”
Keir looked offended. He moved off in that direction, and I fell in behind, with our escort riding around us. That went against road custom in the city, to ride so far abreast. But I doubted any of the City Guard would fine us. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a guardsman running for the palace. I suspected that word would spread fairly quickly that we were in the city.
The townspeople’s reactions were almost predictable. First there was outrage at the violation of road custom, then recognition of the Warlord. At that point, their faces were not welcoming. Then they’d spot me as the procession continued. My cloak was open, the dress visible, and it was causing quite a stir. Thank the Goddess that Keir had headed for the shops. The pleasure streets were on the other side of the city; I could only imagine how the denizens would have reacted.
Our escort stayed close, and Rafe and Prest stayed right by my side, scanning the crowds. Some of the townspeople tried to approach me, but Keir’s glare and the presence of the guards discouraged them. I settled for a nod and a smile to any that I recognized. Most were content to wave and call out to me as we passed by.