Keir spoke first. “Joden? What is wrong?”
“The plague. It’s in the camp.”
Chapter 6
My father loved to dance. On impulse, he’d command the musicians to play, and would join the lords and ladies in cavorting around the throne room, anything from a stately promenade to a sprightly jig. One of his favorite dances was where everyone held position when the music stopped unexpectedly. It reduced his normally stuffy court to giggles and guffaws when they tried to keep still until the music started again. Due to Father’s illness, and my less than popular position at court under my brother’s rule, I hadn’t seen that dance in years. But that was the memory that swirled in my head when we all froze as Jo-den’s words sunk in.
Keir was the first to react, sweeping up his swords and strapping on the harnesses. “Horses?”
“Outside.” Joden stepped further into the tent. “Enough for all.”
“We’ll go.” Keir jerked a blanket from his bedroll and moved to my side. He snapped the blanket out, and wrapped it around my shoulders. I stared at him, numbed at the idea that this might have made its way to the camp, but he gave me no chance to speak.
“I’s got the supplies.” Gils started packing even as Marcus moved toward the babe.
Keir had me bundled up and in his arms before I could say a word. I wrapped my arms around his neck and used them to pull myself higher so that I could look over his shoulder. “Isdra?”
As if my voice had cut off the music, everyone froze again.
Isdra stood in the center of the tent, weaponless, looking naked and vulnerable. I’d never seen such pain as I did on her face. She was torn right in two, longing pulling her in both directions. She hesitated, licking her lips, indecisive for the first time since I had met her. Joden’s face held a puzzled look as his eyes took in the scene, until a brief look around the tent answered his unspoken question. He closed his eyes in pain, and the loss of Epor stabbed at my heart all over again.
In that suspended moment, Keir’s lips brushed my ear with the barest of whispers. “I can’t ask. You can.” He turned slightly so that I faced Isdra.
“Isdra.” I made my voice firm. “I need you. You’ve been through this, can speak of it to the others. I need you to stay. Please.”
The pain was still in her eyes, but the uncertainty vanished. “For now, Warprize.”
As if the music started again, we moved. I tightened my grip as Keir spun for the tent entrance, with Joden right behind. Marcus and Gils scrambled to follow. Isdra calmly stepped into the corner of the tent and grasped Epor’s warclub as the flap fell to cut off my view.
There were seven horses waiting outside. One, a big black horse, neighed a welcome, and advanced to meet us. He was followed closely by my own brown mount, with the scarred chest. Keir handed me to Joden, then swung up into the saddle of the black. I opened my mouth to protest, since there was a horse for me to ride, but one look at Keir’s face and I decided it wasn’t the time to press the issue.
I did take advantage of the slight delay. “Joden, how many are sick?”
“Ten, Warprize. The longest for half a day.”
“Half a day?” Keir growled. “Why wasn’t word sent?” He leaned over to take me.
Joden said nothing until he was sure Keir had me safe in the saddle. “Iften’s orders.”
The black stamped, reacting to Keir’s sudden tensing. Keir shifted in the saddle, easing the beast, adjusting me in his arms, even as his eyes glittered with rage.
Joden stood there, his face bland. “I would have brought others with me, but none could disobey.”
“Except you?” I asked.
“There are benefits to being almost a Singer.” Joden’s teeth flashed as he gave me a rare smile. “Almost the same as being Warprize.”
“Where is Iften?” Keir ground the words out. Even in his fury, his arms cradled me gently.
“In your command tent.” Joden’s face was a polite mask once again, but I knew that his choice of words was deliberate.
I shivered, fearing Keir’s reaction. But he surprised me as he snorted, more amused than offended. He gave me a look, and I caught a glimpse of impish humor lurking in the back of his eyes just as he called out. “Marcus!”
Marcus opened the tent flap. “We’re packing as fast—”
“Leave it. I will send others to aid Isdra and Gils. I need you with me.”
“Eh?”
“Iften set himself up in the command tent.”
Pure rage danced over Marcus’s face. He disappeared, only to pop out a breath later, fully cloaked, heading for a horse, muttering something under his breath. Isdra looked out, even as Joden and Marcus mounted.
“Isdra, I will send others to break this camp. Bring Gils and the babe to the command tent as fast as you can.”
If she replied, it was lost as the black horse surged forward.
The wind whipped around us as we moved at a gallop. The camp was in the distance, spread out by the shores of a small lake, its waters a clear, cold blue. I was glad of the blanket and the warmth of Keir’s strong arms. But he was grim and silent as we rode. Joden and Marcus followed, and to my surprise, my horse was behind them, riderless, but following his herd.
Once we entered the encampment, the warriors about us started to react, calling greetings to Keir, and making those warbling cries. Keir didn’t slow the horse, but he responded to the calls, calling out names, summoning war-leaders. I had glimpses of people scrambling for horses and running off, obeying his commands.
A familiar voice caught my attention, and a smiling
Rafe rode up next to us, seeming almost to dance in his saddle. “Heyla, Warlord!”
“I call you back to duty, Rafe.”
“Good.” Rafe turned in his saddle to look behind. “Prest and I can give Epor and Isdra a rest, yes?”
“Epor is dead.” Keir’s voice was flat, but Rafe’s head whipped back in shock, his eyes wide. “Find Yers, Rafe. Bring him to the command tent.”
Rafe turned his horse off. “I’ll find Prest as well, Warlord.”
As we raced closer, I could see more and more tents around us. Keir had split the army, leaving about half of his troops in Water’s Fall with Simus, but he still had a large number of warriors with him. If the plague had truly reached the camp, the deaths here would make the village seem like nothing. I swallowed hard as the horse came to a stop in front of the command tent.
Joden and Marcus rode up behind us as Keir dismounted. He wouldn’t let me walk the few steps to the tent, lifting me without even asking permission. I opened my mouth to protest, but he cut me off. “Save your strength for what lies ahead.”
The guards at the entrance held back the flaps, and Keir strode into the main room of the tent. Without stopping, he headed for the sleeping area. As he pushed through that flap, I heard an odd grunting sound. I caught my breath at the sight of Iften bare-assed and plowing a woman in our bed.
Our bed!
Thankfully, the glimpse was brief. Keir spun on his heel, taking me back into the meeting area even as I let out an exclamation. Marcus, on the other hand, stepped right into the smaller room and I heard voices raised in anger. I peeked over Keir’s shoulder to see a woman warrior leaving the tent, her gear in hand, naked as a babe.
Keir seated me on the platform. I glared at him, but he used his body to shield me from view, and placed a finger over my lips. In the background, I could hear Marcus yelling at the top of his lungs. A few more warleaders had entered the tent, listened and smirked. There was anger in Keir’s eyes, but there was also a glint of humor there. I gave him a questioning look. He leaned a bit closer. “Marcus does with words what I’d use a sword to accomplish.”
Marcus’s voice was sharp as a dagger and Iften’s defensive. Iften was trying to justify his actions without much success. Of course, Marcus was giving him no quarter, no chance to put in a word edgewise.