“As will I.” Gils echoed, his voice cracking. Keir looked at him oddly. “No, Warlord, I do understand. Better than you think.”
Keir nodded. “My thanks.” Nothing more was said, but I let my confusion go as Keir reached for the cup with shaking hands. I helped him, and he drank it quickly, grimacing at the taste. Something about that teased at my memory as he smiled at me and spoke.
“I will fight this.”
The bile rose in my throat as he repeated Epor’s very words. I jerked my head up, meeting Isdra’s eyes, which held the same horror that mine did. But the others did not know and I managed to control my face before they could see.
Keir was relaxing, letting the sleepease do its work. “Warprize.”
I leaned over him. “Keir?”
“As Warlord, and Overlord of Xy, I command your obedience to my will. Return to Water’s Fall.”
I lowered my lips to his ear. “My heart’s fire, there is only one way to make me obey your command.”
He turned his head slightly, his eyes unfocused. But I could see the question in his eyes.
“Live.”
That heady feeling of command that I’d had a few days before had been replaced with bone-chilling terror. The warleaders, or their representatives, were looking to me to make decisions that affected an entire army. I felt the weight of that responsibility press down on me, knowing for the first time the burden Keir carried with him every day. I’d asked Joden to attend as well, hoping that his presence would help. But he stood to the side, and kept his eyes fixed on the ground before him.
The wind blew my hair into my face, and I pulled it back with one hand. We were outside the command tent, standing in a loose circle, as many as could gather. Iften stood to the side. Prest was behind me, as was Isdra. I’d insisted that we meet here, because I didn’t want Keir disturbed, nor did I want him to try to participate. He needed every bit of strength to fight his battles with the sickness. Marcus remained with Keir.
I was frozen with fear, standing before them. My teeth wanted to worry my lower lip, but I stopped myself. I needed to be confident and strong before these warleaders. Or, at least, to look the part. Why hadn’t I asked Marcus who to trust, or paid more attention during the senels Keir had called?
I’d managed to convince the Council of Xy that being Warprize was best for my country and myself. But I’d understood the motives and desires of the Council mem-bers, and managed to learn enough, fast enough, to make a strong argument. But I felt lost in this military setting. What did I know about the command structure, or who did what? I cursed myself for a fool, and vowed to pay more attention in the future.
If I had a future.
A mug of kavage was placed in my hand. All had been served, and now all eyes turned toward me as silence fell. Blessed Goddess, please help me.
I’d start where Keir would start. “The Warlord has taken ill.” No looks of surprise on any face, so I took a breath and continued. “So let us consider the status of the army and what needs to be done. Where is Sal?”
A woman took a step forward and inclined her head to me. “Warprize, Sal has been ill. She is in the coughing stage and sends her regrets. I am Telsi. Supplies are holding, although I fear we’ve come very close to stripping the area.”
She started to go into detail, and I blessed the precious moments it gave me to think. I looked casually about, but I couldn’t seem to remember anything about anyone. A sense of panic rose, then in my mind’s eye I saw Master Eln, standing in his still room, stirring a pot. “If the Kingdom were ill, what would you do?”
“What?”
“If the kingdom were to somehow stumble into the clinic, weak and ill, what would you do first? ”
I’d look at the symptoms and diagnose. I blinked, thinking it through. I’d determine the extent and the nature of the illness and I’d cure it.
I shifted my gaze to the side where Iften stood, a smug look on his face. No doubt there, of all the warleaders he was the sickest, his hatred of Keir an oozing, pus-filled wound. Wesren stood next to him, shoulder to shoulder. He had the illness as well, but not quite as bad. It was more like Wesren agreed with everything Iften said, instead of opposing Keir.
Something eased in my chest. I could do this.
Telsi was finishing her report. “We will be fine for at least a few more days, but Sal asks that you advise when she can send out hunting parties further afield.”
“My thanks, Telsi.” I said, and she inclined her head with a smile. I decided to treat that as a sign of support, and took strength from that.
Aret took a step forward, and inclined her head. “The herds of horses are well, Warprize, and have plenty of feed and water. We’ve watched them carefully. There’s been no sign that the ‘illness’ has touched them.”
I smiled at her, but she merely inclined her head again and stepped back. I’d take that for a neutral position. I was glad to hear her report; it hadn’t occurred to me to worry about the horses but it made me feel good to know that Keir’s black and my brown were safe.
Wesren stepped forward, and spoke rapidly, without looking at me. “The encampment has been maintained as well as can be expected, but I fear problems if we remain for much longer.” He stepped back, and darted a glance to Iften, seeking approval.
No surprise there, he was firmly mired with Iften.
Ortis stepped forward, and inclined his head. His voice rumbled as he spoke. “My scouts are pulled in, as ordered, and we keep watch at the perimeter. There have been no problems, and no sightings of any potential enemy.”
I remembered him from Meara’s ceremony and hoped I didn’t imagine the look of support on his face as he stepped back.
Uzaina and Tsor stood, and they both glanced at Iften before Tsor stepped forward to speak. “There is little to report, Warprize, since our duties involve the army on the march.” Tsor looked at Uzaina, who shrugged. “We’ve been helping with the sick at the shore.”
I nodded to them both, and Tsor stepped back. I wasn’t sure, but I had a feeling that they were both waiting before making a decision. Why show support for Keir if he was dying? I swallowed hard.
Yers spoke then, stepping forward and inclining his head. “The warriors are maintaining discipline—”
“For now.” Iften interrupted.
Yers glared, but I spoke first. “Then let us continue on as we have. Keir will be well within a few days.”
“And if he is not?” Iften asked smoothly.
I ignored him. “I will see to Keir, with Marcus’s help. Gils will see to the rest of the sick. Come to me with any questions, but I will give my attention to Keir.”
“What a surprise, that you will ignore the others for the Warlord.”
I focused on the others as Iften spoke. For the most part, it seemed I was right in my diagnosis. Telsi, Yers and Ortis scowled at Iften’s words, but Wesren, Uzaina and Tsor were clearly considering their import. Aret had an odd look on her face, as if undecided.
I wanted to slap that smug look right off Iften, and make him take back every oily, ugly word. Thank the Goddess Marcus was inside with Keir. He’d have had his daggers plunged into the man’s chest. I held my temper hard, biting the inside of my cheek. “I ignore no one. He is the Warlord, and I am his Warprize. My place is at his side.”
“Warprize only so long as he lives, Xyian.”
All in attendance stiffened at the insult, but I ignored it. “You are Second, Iften. But I am the Warprize.”
He bowed that handsome blonde head, smirk firmly in place. “As you say, Xyian. But as Second, I shall return to my tent and keep myself from the contagion that you have brought among us. So that when a leader is needed, I will be ready.” He turned and walked away without another word.
Silence fell as he moved off. The warleaders exchanged glances, but I’d learned one thing from Keir. I cut off any comment and dismissed them. “Thank you all for your reports. I will send word when Keir has recovered.”