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.”