“You’ve nothing to be sorry for, Rafe.” He was warm alright, the fever flushing his face. “How long have you been ill?”
He blinked, looking at me, lost and uncertain. As he had looked the first time I met him, in the healing tent in the castle gardens. His head injury had been bleeding, and he’d been the first of the prisoners that had let me treat their wounds. He’d talked to me in a form of trade talk that our people had in common. It had taken time to win his confidence, but Rafe had been the one to ask me to treat Simus, and had reassured Joden of my skills. “Never you mind. Sleep, Rafe.”
He closed his eyes, and relaxed. The scar from that old wound stood out, thin and sharp against his skin. The green-eyed girl wet her cloth and began to stroke his face and chest. “He’s been ill for a few hours now, Warprize.” Her gaze flashed at me again. “Gils has told us all that we need to know.”
“Fylin!” Lasa scolded. “Earth’s sake, you have no courtesy!”
The green gaze disappeared, as Fylin bowed her head. “Forgive me, Warprize.” The tone was sullen. “I am Fylin of the Snake.”
“And I am Ksand of the Cat, Warprize.” The new girl knelt and held out a half-full jar of fever’s foe for my inspection, her brown hair in a braid. “Gils has dosed him with the sleepease. And left this fever’s foe for us to use.”
“We have taken his weapons, and removed ours as well. We are ready to bind him when the raving begins.”
Soar sounded almost eager. I heard a snort from outside the tent, and knew that Prest was listening.
I suppressed my own smile. “You are ready for the battle, then. Let me give you another jar of fever’s foe, just in case.” I rummaged in my basket. It seemed that Rafe would be well taken care of by his friends. I wanted to stay, but I knew that I didn’t have the strength, and that I was needed in the stilltent. Besides, I would insult the honor of these women if I tried to take their duties from them. “I know that Rafe is in good hands, and that you will see him through this.”
I heard a grunt from outside, and knew that Marcus approved.
The women seemed pleased at my response, and even Fylin unbent enough to reassure me. “We will send for Gils if we have any doubts or questions, Warprize.”
I nodded, and bent down to brush the hair from Rafe’s forehead. “May the skies be with you, Rafe.”
His eyes opened then, and cleared, truly seeing me. “You must take another guard, Lara.”
All four girls went wide-eyed and sucked in their breaths, clearly impressed.
“No, Rafe. I am safe. Prest and Isdra will see to me until you can return to your duties.”
“I will return as soon as I…” He sighed, and his eyes drifted close.
“Win this battle, Rafe.” I stood, and left the tent before he could see my tears.
Outside, Marcus and Prest waited for me, their faces grim. We walked in silence for a moment, as I got my emotions under control. When I felt I could, I turned and looked at Prest. “Four women?”
Prest smirked.
Marcus gave a dry chuckle. “Rafe has always been popular. A charmer, that one. To rival Simus.”
I smiled at the comparison. But my smile was short lived as I lifted my head and saw the black smoke still rising from the pyres that burned where a village used to be.
“Rafe was right, we need another to ward you.” Marcus spoke from behind me.
I looked down at the ground as I continued to walk, wishing for the security and comfort of my stilltent. “No, Marcus, don’t disturb Keir. I have Prest and Isdra, and that’s enough.” I felt the disapproval radiate from him and cut him off before he could speak. “The healthy care for the sick. The sick try to reclaim their health. Who has time or the strength to threaten me?”
We returned to the stilltent in silence.
The next day a slight noise outside my tent caused me to peek through the flap to see Marcus working his familiar magic on yet another warleader. This time his victim was Joden, being told in no uncertain terms to sit down and eat. Poor Joden looked drained of all his strength as he plopped down onto the stump.
Marcus returned to shove the baby into Joden’s arms, wrapped in a blanket and fussing loudly. “Make yourself useful and see to her.”
Startled, Joden took the wriggling handful as Marcus stalked off. The babe was kicking and crying as Joden started to make funny noises, trying to distract her. But I could see her tiny feet moving and knew that she was not to be soothed by such a trick.
So that clever, exhausted man patiently reached into his pouch and brought out a strip of privacy bells. At the sound, tiny hands reached out of the blankets and clutched them tight. The fussing changed to happy laughter; a happiness reflected in Joden’s face. A happiness that I had seen in the faces of others that Marcus had played this trick on, using one tiny baby to restore their hearts. I turned back to my pots with a lighter heart.
When Marcus returned with soup and kavage, Joden was relaxed, singing a quiet song to the babe. I emerged from the tent as Joden put the babe back in her basket. When he tugged at the bells, she let out a squall, and tugged right back, putting the leather strap in her mouth and gurgling with joy.
“A warrior’s grip, Warprize.” Joden accepted the food from Marcus. “What have the elements named her?”
I pushed my hair back behind my ear as the wind caught it. “Her name was lost, Joden. We found her next to her dead mother. Her thea.”
Joden drank soup, and studied the child. “A serious thing, to lose a name.” Isdra walked up with a load of firewood as he continued. “We listen to the elements to find a child’s name. She is young yet, the loss will not harm her. We should have a naming ceremony for her.”
Isdra brushed her hands off. “She is of Xy. We should follow their ways in this.”
Joden looked at me.
“We name our children for their ancestors, or we choose a name that we like. Rahel said her mother’s name was Meara.”
“Name her for her thea then,” Isdra knelt by the basket.
“Meara, it is.” Joden reached out to tickle a waving foot. “She should be marked. Stained.”
I had a sudden vision of Anna’s face on seeing this child with a tattoo, no matter how temporary the mark. “We can see to that later.” I stated firmly.
Joden sighed and picked up his kavage. “It is good that she is named.”
Meara shook the bells and laughed, letting us share a rare smile as well.
Her laughter reminded me of something else. “Joden, I forgot to tell you, Simus sent a letter for you. He asked that I read it to you, so that you had his words for your song.”
I expected a positive response, but Joden didn’t even look at me. He stared at the babe, his face grim, “Joden?”
“I do not think I can craft that song, Warprize.”
Puzzled, I studied his broad face, trying to figure out what he meant. “Of course. You’re tired. Now’s not the time to create a song. I will save the letter, Joden. For later.”
Joden ignored me, addressing Marcus instead. “My thanks, Marcus. I have the strength to continue in my task.”
“No need of thanks, Singer.” Marcus gave him an odd look, but didn’t press the matter.
“What are you doing, Joden?” I asked.
“I am seeing to the dead, Lara. Someone must sing for them, even if just a snatch of song.” Joden straightened his back and stood. “Give me some good word, one that I can carry in my heart.”
“It’s slowing, Joden.” I answered. “The number of newly ill is falling off.”
He took a deep breath, nodding. “That is good, Warprize. I will take that with me.” He looked down at the child, still shaking the bells. “The Warlord was right to hold us all here. I can’t imagine this horror in the Plains.”
“Among the children and theas.” Marcus’s voice was hushed. “It would destroy them.”