“I have heard of this, but the sky as my witness, I thought it a fable told to children.” Rafe frowned. “ How can the marks hold your songs?”
“Listen.” Returning the book to my lap, I read out loud, “Hear now the tale of Xyson, Warrior King, and his defeat of the barbarians of the southern lands. Xyson, tall and strong as the mountain had led his people well for ten years before the barbarians fell upon the villages and raided his people.” I paused, suddenly unsure. It occurred to me that the barbarians the book talked about were Keir’s own people.
Prest snorted. “How old?” he asked, nodding at the book.
“The story is almost four hundred years old. Xyson is my father’s father’s father back some nine generations.”
Prest looked impressed. Atira lay back against her blankets. “A song so old. You do us honor, Warprize.”
“Don’t be so quick to say that.” I smiled at her and the others settling around us. “You haven’t heard it yet.”
I read for about a half hour. My audience hung on every word, even though the tale talked about numbers of troops, supplies, and the appointing of a Warden for the kingdom.
Dull as the story was, it forced me to learn new words as I translated. Rafe and Prest took their positions back at the entrance, but when I saw them straining to hear, I raised my voice slightly. There was silence when I finally stopped and closed the book. Atira cleared her throat. “I’m not sure what your custom is, Warprize. Normally we would give thanks to the singer.”
“Thanks is good.” I stood and stretched. “I’m glad to share it with you. But now I am hungry. Is the nooning close?”
Gils jumped up. “I’s be checking.” He darted out the door and ran into someone coming in. “Sorry, Warlord!”
“Watch where you’re going, boy,” came the gruff response. Rafe and Prest stood as Keir entered the tent. His face was clear of the anger he had shown this morning. “How goes it with—” He stopped abruptly when he saw the book in my hands.
It was time to confess. “I bought this with your coin yesterday.” I smoothed one hand over its cover nervously. “It’s an old story called The Epic of Xyson. I thought it would distract—”
“You’re reading to my people?” The surprise in his voice was clear.
I nodded. “I also bought a primer. A teaching tool. So that I could teach Gils to read my book on herbs.” I chanced a glance at his face.
Keir looked very satisfied. “You would teach him?” He moved over to gaze down at Atira. “Could she learn as well?”
“Yes.” I nodded. “If she is willing.”
Atira’s eyes got even bigger. “Warlord, at your command, I’ll try.”
Keir narrowed his eyes, nodding. “That is all I ask, Warrior. This is no easy horse to master, but it would please me for you to learn.”
She nodded her acceptance of the charge.
Keir arched an eyebrow. “I’ve announced a pattern dance for tomorrow night.”
Atira brightened, but her face fell quickly. “I’ll miss the dancing, but it’s my pattern they’ll be weaving.” There was pride mixed with the disappointment.
Keir smiled. “If Simus can be carried to the senel, why not you?”
I frowned, considering. Keir watched me, focused on my face. “Explain to her, Warrior. Tell her why it is important to you.”
“Warprize, it’s an honor to be asked to design the pattern.” Atira pleaded with voice and eyes. “To not see my first pattern woven, it’s like a dagger thrust here.” She put her hand over her heart.
“The leather has dried and hardened. If we are careful, and if you swear that you will not move, and let yourself be carried…”
“All that, all that, I swear, Warprize.”
Atira was so serious, so earnest, that I had to smile.
“Well then, if all is well here, I have something to show you.” Keir tugged on my sleeve and pulled me toward the entrance. Prest and Rafe were also standing there, grinning like fools.
I gave them a narrow look. “What’s going on?”
“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 Fire-landers 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.