My buttocks hit the ground with a thump. “Five children?”
Atira looked up, puzzled by my reaction. “Aye, Warprize. Before any can enter military service, they must first bear or breed five children for the theas.”
“Of course.” I answered faintly. There was a roaring in my ears. Keir had similar tattoos. Five children? Different mothers?
Atira reached for my hand, concern in her eyes. “Warprize?”
“Do you raise your children?”
“Skies blessing, no!” Atira laughed. “What would I know of tending babes? Theas do that, in the safety of the Plains. Three months of milk is more than enough for me.”
“Were you… did you… marry the fathers?” I had to use the Xyian word.
Atira frowned. “Marry?” I explained as best I could, and she chortled, shaking her head. “No, Warprize. Bonding is for later, if I meet the right person. Those matings were for the tribes, to flourish the tribes. You understand?”
Dazed, I think I nodded my head.
Atira settled back, satisfied. “Now I say ‘I thank you for your truth’, and the ritual is complete.” She yawned.
Concern for my patient cut through my confusion. “Sleep, Atira.”
She nodded, and I moved away to check the others, my hands steady, but my thoughts tumbled. Sure enough, each one had similar tattoos on their arms. I worked about the tent as my patients dozed, thinking hard about not thinking about Keir’s five children. Or the five women that had borne him five children. Or the fact that I might be required to bear five children.
Thankfully Gils interrupted my musings, showing up with dinner for my patients. There was another man with him, who walked up to me with a wry grin. “Greetings, Warprize.”
“You’re Yers. From the senel.”
“Aye. Gils is one of my group.” He shook his head. “Knocked me off my horse, making his request that way.” He lowered his voice as Gils moved about with the food. “Solved a problem, to be honest. Gils gives his best, mind, but he’s not a natural fighter.”
“He’s so young.”
Yers nodded. “Younger than most. Triplets twice, if you can believe.”
I blinked. “Triplets.” Sure enough, a quick glance showed me the six tattoos on his left arm.
Yers raised his voice. “He’ll do well enough for you, Warprize, but I’ll not let him slack his duties. Here, now,” he called to Gils. “Done?”
Gils nodded.
“Then we’re off.” Yers gave me a wink. “You’ll have him again in the morning.”
I wasn’t hungry, so I made sure that everyone had what they needed and returned to my small table, more to think then to accomplish anything. The differences between us seemed so vast. I almost laughed out loud to think of the Archbishop’s reaction. Five children, with no blessing of the Goddess. But then I stopped. Did that mean they were free to lay with each other at any time? If so, what need was there for a warprize?
A cough interrupted me. I turned to find a stocky woman standing there, skin brown and weathered, her short hair a pale white. “Warprize. The Warlord has directed me to find out what your supply needs are. I am Sal, supply master.”
I stood. “Sal, I am glad to see you. I had hoped to have a list ready, but…”
Sal snorted, then sat. “What good would that do? Tell me what you need.”
“Well, if you know what the former healer used, I can work off those items.”
Sal looked at me, her hands on her knees. “Warprize, the Warrior-priest would not have deigned to speak to me, let alone tell me his needs.”
“But how did he heal so many with such limited supplies?”
Sal gave me a grim look. “He didn’t. Now, what do you need?”
So I started telling her about fever’s foe and orchid root and all the other things that would supply me with the basics. She kept her eyes on mine, only occasionally stopping me to ask a question as to what something was, or to make sure that she knew how much I required. Hesitantly, I also asked about braziers and bowls to mix my medicines. She grunted at that.
Finally, I ran out of ideas. She nodded once and settled back on her stool. “So. Let me make sure I have it right.” She took a breath, and started reciting.
I was impressed. She had remembered every item, the quantity and its description. I listened carefully as she recited, nodding as she went along. I didn’t have to correct her once. When she was done, I nodded and smiled. She relaxed a bit, but there was no smile on her dour face. “All right?”
“Perfect.”
“Only the sky is perfect.” She stood and stretched, and moved to where Gils had left a pitcher of kavage. She brought it over with two mugs. “Not the hottest, but wet.” She poured two mugs and handed me one. “Now, I have questions for you.” Seated back on the stool she leaned forward, an odd look on her face. “What do you know of the city merchants?” Her eyes were alight with a strange kind of glow.
“Well, I know a number of them.”
She leaned forward. “Have you bought from them?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me,” she said “tell me about them.” There was a scowl as she drank her kavage. “I must needs deal with them for supplies. These ways are new to me. Tell me how they deal and what they are like.”
I chuckled. I knew that look now. It was the same look that Remn got in his eye when he was haggling over the price of a book.
We talked for a long time. Sal had questions about sellers of livestock, produce, cloth, and everything an army could want. She already knew all the types of coins used in the kingdom of Xy, and their relative values. She was not so interested in the butchers and bakers, and I couldn’t answer her questions about the dealers in swords and armor. She seemed well satisfied, and stood and stretched, looking out the entrance of the tent. “I’ve kept you late, Warprize. My thanks.” With that, Sal left as quickly as she had come.
I looked after her in surprise. “Is she always that abrupt?”
Rafe and Prest chuckled at my expression. “Unless you’re haggling, Warprize,” said Rafe.
“Let me check Atira one more time.”
Atira blinked at me as I checked the leg, and smiled drowsily. “Warprize.”
“Atira. How do you feel?”
“Good, Warprize.”
I sighed. “Lara. My name is Lara.”
She yawned. “Yes, Warprize.”
I sighed. Apparently I was wasting my time.
On the walk back to the Warlord’s tent, we paused to look at the stars that hung in the sky, and the moon riding low. Rafe was explaining the significance of the fact that Joden wanted to talk to Atira. “It’s an honor, to be in a song.”
Prest nodded. “A great honor.”
“To be honored for a broken leg?” I asked, skeptical.
Rafe chuckled. “Well, it would be better if it were a battle deed, but it is rare indeed to be in a song. Unless you’re particularly brave or cunning—”
“Or dead.” Prest added.
“Or dead.” Rafe agreed. “Joden must also be planning on singing about you, Warprize.”
“Me?” I stopped outside the tent.
Rafe laughed. “Why sing about the injury unless you sing about the healing?” He clapped his hand on Prest’s back, and they walked off, leaving me standing there with a foolish look on my face.
Marcus greeted me when I entered the tent. “Can I get you anything, Warprize?”
I put my hands on my hips. “Lara.”
He turned his one eye up to study the tent. “Kavage, perhaps? Some hot water?”
I snorted, but was too tired to fight him. “No, thank you. I think I will go to sleep.”
Marcus nodded. “I will add some fuel to the braziers. The Warlord is still with Simus, and I think they will talk the stars away.” He bustled about, as I sank down onto the bed, and bade me good rest when he left. I yawned, my face almost splitting with its strength. The bed felt wonderful when I crawled under the blankets and furs.