“Who?” Lara demanded.
“Someone I’d angered, maybe.” Heath settled on a stool and flinched as Eln used something cold and wet. “Or who wasn’t pleased with my recent appointment.” He glared at Lara. “You might have warned me.”
Lara gave him an impish smile. “Had I thought of it beforehand, I would have. But standing there, before all of them, it seemed necessary. Just in case.”
Meara had pulled herself up with the aid of Anna’s skirts and was babbling. Anna bent over and lifted her into her arms.
“It was smart,” Othur said. “Heath knows the workings of this castle better than any. And it probably confused those idiots for a while. Long enough to let us put our heads together.”
“Lara’s had but a short nap,” Anna protested. “She needs her sleep, she does, for the ordeal before her.”
Keir flinched.
Heath frowned, but the look was gone from Keir’s face in an instant.
But Lara must have seen it. She reached out and grasped Keir’s hand in her own. “Nonsense, Anna. I am well and healthy, and Eln will be in attendance. Beside, rest assured that Lord Durst is not napping.”
“And there is much we need to know,” Keir said. “Heath, what of the castle?”
Heath took a deep breath. “I’ve reestablished the Castle Guard within the castle as well as on the walls.” Pain flared at his ear, and he jerked his head away from Eln. “That hurt!”
“Don’t be such a baby,” Eln said. “Pressure will stop the bleeding.”
Heath sighed before continuing. “It went fairly smoothly, although I had to drive the point home with a few of Lord Durst’s men that their presence was not necessary—that they were welcome to provide their lord with their services, but that I had charge over the Guard. I’ve men searching for my attackers. Someone took offense, that’s all.”
“I am not so sure,” Atira said.
ATIRA SAW THE SURPRISE ON HEATH’S FACE. HE couldn’t turn to face her, since Eln had a grip on his ear, but he rolled his eyes in her direction. “What?”
“They may have been of the Plains,” Atira explained.
Keir stirred. “Explain, warrior.”
Atira faced him. “Warlord, I have spoken with Elois of the Horse, as you ordered. I would ask for your token.”
Lara stiffened, but Othur just nodded.
Keir raised an eyebrow. “You feel the need?”
Atira spread her hands. “Better to ask than to offend.”
“Stop squirming,” Eln said to Heath. “You don’t need to see to hear.”
Atira took pity on the man and moved to where he could see her without moving more than his eyes.
Keir reached into Lara’s satchel and took out a small jar. He threw it to Atira, who caught it easily. “You hold my token, Atira. What truths would you voice?”
Atira pulled in a breath before speaking. “Warlord,” she said in the language of the Plains. “When you—”
Keir’s frown deepened. “Speak Xyian.”
“There may be truth in my words that you do not wish them to hear,” Atira said simply.
“No secrets,” Lara said. “They need to know.”
Atira bowed her head, then started again. “Warlord, when you departed Xy, you left behind a force of warriors under the command of Simus of the Hawk. That force was pledged to remain and hold Xy in your name for the winter season.
“After your departure, word came of the troubles you encountered with the Council of Elders. Simus left for the Plains, along with myself and Heath, in order to stand at your side during that time.”
“It was well that he did,” Lara commented. “We needed him more than we knew.”
“Simus left Wilsa of the Lark in charge of the remaining warriors. Elois of the Horse was to be her second. All was well, until the messenger from the Council of Elders appeared with word that you had been . . .” Atira hesitated, glancing at Othur. “That your status had changed.”
“What?” Othur asked Keir sharply. “What is this?”
“The message was not shared with the Xyians, apparently,” Keir said dryly.
“Wilsa thought it best not to share this truth with the Xyians,” Atira said.
“What does that mean, exactly?” Othur said with a growl. The invalid was gone, and the statesman had emerged.
“Othur,” Lara started, but Keir interrupted.
“The Council of the Elders stripped me of my position as Warlord, as punishment for the deaths under my command.” Keir’s voice was calm, but Atira saw a muscle twitch in his jaw.
“Deaths from illness,” Lara said hotly. “The Council was wrong to—”
“Right or wrong, it was done.” Keir put his hand on her shoulder. He looked over at Atira. “Wilsa shared this truth with all of the warriors, eh?”
“Yes,” Atira said. “And this truth was not well received.”
Meara started to fuss, so Anna put her back down on the floor. She cooed with delight and started to crawl around Lara’s skirts.
“That explains it,” Othur said, rubbing his jaw. “After Simus left, after that messenger arrived, I noticed . . .” His voice trailed off. “Wilsa was fine, but the others . . . there was a coolness. As if they were offended. I thought they were having trouble adapting to our ways.”
“That was part of it, Lord Othur,” Atira said. “They were upset, but they had pledged to Keir that they would stay the winter, and stay they did. They spent the winter dealing with city-folk and uncertain as to their status.”
“Their status?” Eln asked. He patted Heath on the shoulder. “The bleeding’s stopped.”
“The status of a Plains warrior is a reflection of those they serve,” Keir explained. “My loss is their loss.”
“Not all are dissatisfied,” Atira offered. “Some support Keir in all things and mistrust the decision of the Council. Others wait to hear your truths for themselves to decide. Others were deeply unsettled at the news of the deaths and wish to be released from their pledge.” Atira drew a breath. “The Xyian child’s appeal over a forced bonding was the final blow for many. They could not stand by and see that done.”
“I do not fault them in that,” Keir said. “But to wear masks? Attack in ambush? That is not our way.”
“New ways can be learned, Warlord. I do not say it is certain; I only raise the possibility. That is my truth.” Atira returned the jar to Keir.
“And I thank you for your truth,” Keir said.
“What does this mean, your loss of status?” Othur asked. “If you are not a warlord, will that allow another warlord with an army the freedom to attack Xy?”
“That will have to wait until morning,” Eln said. “This visit to an invalid has gone too long as is. And Lara needs her rest.”
“True enough,” Othur said. “Although Lara’s visit has restored my life to me.”
“Let’s not be that obvious,” Eln said.
Meara had found Keir’s black boots and was pulling herself up by his trous. Keir looked down and smiled, swinging her up into his arms. The little girl chortled and reached over his shoulder for the hilt of his sword.
“Not yet, little one,” Keir said. “Wooden ones first, and only at first teeth.” He tickled her tummy.
Meara chortled, grabbing his fingers.
“Her tattoos have worn off.” Lara smiled.
“The idea,” Anna snorted. “Marking a baby.” She stood. “Eln has the right of it. It’s long past time Meara was in bed, and you need to—”
“No,” Lara said. She tugged Anna back down to the bench. “There’s one matter that needs dealing with now.” She put her hands on her belly. “Here, with those that are my family.”
She shifted on the bench. “Keir, come here next to me.”
Keir handed Meara to Othur and knelt on the floor by Lara’s side.
Othur clucked at the little girl and rubbed her tummy. She settled into his arms, cooing and patting his face with her hand.
Lara t
ook Keir’s hand. “We need to face your fears, my brave Warlord. We need to make plans if I should die in childbirth.”
CHAPTER 13
HEATH’S STOMACH CLENCHED AS HE WATCHED everyone in the room go pale.
Well, everyone except Eln. He was at his table, serenely arranging his supplies.
Atira caught Heath’s eye and stepped closer, her arm brushing his. Heath wasn’t sure if she was offering support or if she needed it herself, but he was grateful.
“Keir,” Lara said firmly. “I am healthy, and Eln has delivered many babies. But you and I have talked about what happened to Kayla.”
Othur raised an eyebrow.
“Keir and Kayla shared a tent as children,” Lara explained. “They were as close as Heath and I. She died in childbirth and—”
“The babe did not come, and the theas gave her mercy. The child was dead when it was cut from her body.” Keir looked off into the distance for a long moment. Finally, he looked at Lara’s hand in his, and continued. “The warrior-priests did nothing.” Keir’s voice was cold and unforgiving. “They refused to aid her in any way—”
“But that is not the case here,” Eln pointed out.
“We can’t ignore that women die in childbirth, and there is always a chance that something will go wrong,” Lara said.
Keir’s face was a mask.
“I am a healer, and I know the risks,” Lara said. “It is the same risk every time you take up your sword.”
“No,” Keir said. “It’s different.”
“We all die,” Lara said gently. “None of us are immortal.” She reached out to stroke his face. “You said to me once that you would seek the snows if I died. So I must ask for your promise, beloved. Your oath that if something happened to me, you will live to care for our child, a child of two worlds.”
Keir bent his head to hers.
Heath felt Atira’s fingers intertwine with his.
Lara continued. “I remember full well Isdra’s pain at Epor’s death. I know the Plains tradition that bonded couples follow each other to the snows.” Lara’s voice was soft. “But we have chosen to try to change your people and mine, and this is one of those changes.” She pressed Keir’s hand to her belly, covering it with her own delicate fingers. “You must live, beloved, to raise our child. This babe will need your guidance and strength.”
Keir lifted his head, his eyes glittering. “I swear it, beloved. I will not seek the snows until our child has reached adulthood.”
Lara looked at each of them. “He will need all of your help, to care for my babe.”
“Of course we will help,” Anna scolded. “Not that there is anything to be concerned about. T’ch, you’ll worry yourself into a state, and that’s not good for you or the babe.”
“And the invalid needs to return to his bed,” Eln said. “His recovery can start in the morning.”
“Perhaps we should delay a day or two,” Othur said softly. Meara was curled in his arms, asleep. “Use that as an excuse to give you time to think.”
Keir was pulling Lara to her feet. “No, best not to let things fester,” Lara said. She grimaced as she stood and put a hand to her back. “Best to deal with things before the birthing.”
“Especially if they are already attacking from the shadows,” Keir said.
“I’ll call for a council tomorrow afternoon,” Lara said, planting a swift kiss on Othur’s head. “I will name Keir as my designated regent for our child, and require their signatures, witnessed and sworn.”
“They will push for a Justice,” Othur warned.
“I will yawn and claim exhaustion.” Lara smiled.
“That will only work so many times,” Eln said.
“Call for a High Court dinner,” Anna said, taking Meara up. The baby girl was limp in her arms. “Distract them with precedence, and I’ll stuff them so full of food they will sleep for a day.”
“You wouldn’t mind?” Lara asked. “I wouldn’t add to your work.”
“No more extra work than stuffing their mouths for a regular dinner,” Anna scoffed quietly.
“If we did that, I could announce the Justice for the day after next,” Lara said. “That would give us time to talk.” She smiled at Othur. “I have a few ideas.”
“And give me time to call the warriors to a senel,” Keir said. “We will discuss the various truths.”
“A brilliant idea, my ladywife.” Othur smiled at Anna. “Eln can announce that I have revived upon seeing Lara and all can rejoice at my miraculous recovery. I’ll get a walking stick and totter down to the baths tomorrow.”
“You’ll go to the baths with a guard, Father. I’ve placed two at your door,” Heath spoke up. “For you as well, Mother. To be with you at all times, even in the kitchen.”
Anna looked at him with wide eyes. “Surely that’s not necessary,” she started.
Heath cut her off. “It is.” He faced Eln. “I didn’t think of you, until just now. But there should be guards for you, as well. Gods forbid we lose you before Lara is brought to her bed. If you will wait here, I will send for more.”
“As you wish,” Eln said.
Lara and Keir nodded grimly. “Lara will have her four bodyguards at all times,” Keir said.
“And you, my Warlord,” Lara said softly.
“What about Heath?” His mother turned on him, glaring even as she cradled the sleeping child. “They have already attacked you once!”
“He’s mine,” Atira said.
ATIRA KNEW THE WORDS WERE A MISTAKE THE moment they left her tongue. Her cheeks grew heated as everyone stared at her. She dropped her gaze to avoid seeing Heath’s face. “He’s my responsibility,” she clarified. “With your permission, Warlord.”
“It makes good sense,” Keir said, with a glint in his eye. He looked as though he was about to say more, but thankfully, Lara yawned just at that moment.
“Enough of this,” Othur said. “Off with you. The rest can wait until tomorrow.”
“I’ll see to the guards,” Heath said, and he slipped out into the hall.
“Is your back bothering you, Lara?” Eln frowned as he looked at her.
Lara grimaced. “It wasn’t until I took a nap on the Xyian mattress in the Queen’s chamber. I’ve grown used to the way of the Plains.” She gave Anna a rueful look. “Don’t tell anyone, but Marcus and Amyu are making up a bed for me of gurtle pads and blankets.”
“Best to sleep on what you’re used to for now,” Anna said. “You can return to a proper bed after the baby is born.”
From Lara’s face, Atira could see that it was not something she looked forward to.
“Send scribes to me in the morning, and I will weakly dictate the regency documents,” Othur said.
“I will.” Lara took Keir’s arm and began to waddle toward the door. Keir raised an eyebrow in Atira’s direction.
With a start, she realized that her charge was in the hall without her protection. Atira flushed, following Keir and Lara through the door.
HIS ROOM WAS JUST AS HE’D LEFT IT.
Well, not exactly. Heath smiled ruefully as he recalled throwing things around in his haste to pack his saddlebags and follow Simus and Atira. The light of the small candle on the mantel showed that the room had been set to rights. Heath suspected that his mother had washed all his clothing and put it in his clothes press.
It was a small room with a simple bed, a chair, and a hearth in addition to the press. Nothing too fancy. His father had offered a larger chamber, but Heath knew full well that might cause hard feelings with his fellow Guardsmen. He’d avoided special privileges and taken some of the worst posts, just to prove himself to the men he’d be working with. It had earned him their respect, and to be honest, he was used to its plainness now. Although after so long on the Plains, the stone walls felt oddly wrong.
His packs and bedroll were on the bed; there was another set against the far wall—Atira’s by the look of them.
Heath knelt at the hearth and used a t
aper to light the fire already laid there. It would take the chill off the stone.
The tinder caught quickly. Heath went to the window, looking out over the courtyard and the tree. There was a slight breeze, and the leaves rustled in its wake. He could just make out some of the stars appearing in a darkening sky. He started to close the shutters—
“Don’t,” Atira said. She was standing just inside the door. “The walls are already close enough. Let us at least have air.”
Heath shook his head and swung the wooden shutters closed. “We’ve been attacked once already tonight. Let’s not invite another.”
Atira sighed as he placed the bar over the shutters, but she reached for her packs without another word.
“What, no comments on the silliness of Xyian ways, or the strangeness of stone tents?” Heath asked.
Atira ignored him. She started to roll her bedding out in front of the door.
“What are you doing?” Heath snapped. “You can’t sleep there.”
Atira paused, giving him a mild look. “Where else would I sleep?”
“Well.” Heath pointed at the bed. “Here.”
Atira raised her eyebrow. “I would not string you along. You placed a price on sharing, remember?”
Only too well. Heath clamped his jaw shut on the words he wanted to say, but she was right. He’d meant what he’d said there under the pines, but right here, right now, he wanted . . .
Gods. She would drive him insane long before their enemies killed him.
“Fine.” Heath started to remove his weapons, moving toward his press. “But at least sleep closer to the fire.”
“Fine,” she snapped. Atira had her back to him, stiff and as disapproving as a back could get. She continued to lay out her gurtle pads and blankets in front of the door.
Heath cursed under his breath as he stripped down, hanging his sword-belt from the bedpost. He opened the lid of the clothes press, looking for the thin linen bedclothes.
“What’s that smell?” Atira asked.
Heath didn’t look up. “Spices. Mother refuses to waste anything. If a spice gets too old to cook with, she makes up small bags and hides them in the clothes. She claims it keeps vermin out of the press.” He pulled out a pair of sleep trous.
Warcry Page 9