Warsong

by Elizabeth Vaughan

  The door opened behind her, and Keir stepped out, a bundled babe in his arms. “Lara?” he asked then stopped dead. “Joden?”

  Lara reached for the babe. “Kavage,” she said firmly. “Kavage and food before any questions.”

  Keir’s astonishment faded from his eyes, to be replaced with concern as he took in Joden’s appearance. Keir gave a sharp nod. “Follow me.” They all followed within.

  The kitchen was filled with people, noise, and wonderful smells. Joden’s stomach rumbled even as the noise overwhelmed him.

  Then the room went silent and dark, the absence of light and heat almost as disorienting. The fires were unlit, except for one lone candle casting shadows about the room.

  Anna, seated at a table, weeping alone with a nightshirt in her hands.

  Her pain hit Joden like a blow.

  Noise flooded back into his world, bringing light and sounds and scents. Anna stood before them in her glory, in her kingdom, but not happy to see them invade.

  Joden stared at the contrast of the vibrant woman before him with the sorrowing one in his vision.

  “Out with ya,” Anna commanded, wooden spoon in hand, her chins all wobbling as she scolded. “I’ll send up the nooning shortly.”

  Joden swayed, then a warm body pressed against his side, and without thinking he reached for Amyu’s shoulder.

  Amyu stood close, strong and solid. He took in her scent, her presence, more powerful than those hated teas.

  She glanced up, giving him time. When he returned her look, she waited for him to take a step, and then stayed close as they followed Lara and Keir out of the kitchens and into the halls.

  Joden took steadying breaths, and concentrated on moving his feet. The stones around them were grey and cool, lit by arrow slits along the way, but at night he knew—

  The hall went dark as the night, with no torches to light the shadows. The assassins leapt at Heath from behind.

  Joden squeezed Amyu’s shoulder, feeling her leather armor under his fingers, her solid bones beneath that.

  The corridor grew light again, with no blood, no blades.

  “Kayla had just started to fuss,” Keir was telling Lara as they walked. “Keirson is with the wet nurse.”

  “We can eat and talk in our chambers,” Lara said. She glanced back at Joden. “Privately. Joden has much to tell us.”

  And no words to tell you with, Joden thought.

  Marcus waited for them in the chambers. He allowed Keir and Lara to pass, and Joden. Amyu was not surprised when he blocked her way. “We will talk later about the pain you have caused Herself,” he growled.

  Amyu nodded.

  Marcus huffed, allowed her in, then blocked Rafe and Prest. “Herself is about, feeding,” he announced. “Go about your own work.”

  The Warprize may have adopted many of the ways of the Plains, but she was still of Xy.

  The wet nurse was already in one corner nursing Keirson, but that was acceptable. “She does not speak the language of the Plains,” Lara said, avoiding the Xyian tongue. She settled in one of the chairs before the hearth where a small fire burned, just enough to take the chill from the stone.

  These chambers had not changed, and yet it felt strange to Amyu. Different. But her real focus was Joden. She stepped forward, and saw to it that he settled in one of the more comfortable chairs, facing the Warlord and Warprize.

  The Warlord leaned forward, his blue eyes intent. “Joden, how do I come to find you in Xy?”

  “Amyu,” Marcus jerked his head at her. “Aid me with the nooning.”

  “No,” Amyu stood by the arm of Joden’s chair.

  All three looked at her in astonishment.

  “At least,” she amended. “Not yet. I will tell the beginning of the tale from my truth. Joden can speak after he has eaten.”

  There was a clatter at the door, of servants and dishes. The smell made Amyu’s mouth water.

  Keir leaned back in his chair. “As you say,” he said mildly. “Tell me your truths.”

  Amyu took a breath, and felt the slightest pressure of Joden’s hand against her hip. The smallest of things, but it gave her confidence.

  “I went into the mountains, searching for airions,” Amyu started, using the same words she had given to Master Eln and the Warprize. But this time she left nothing out, about the caves, and the animal attack, and almost giving up until she saw a flutter of white and heard a snatch of song.

  Lara rose to trade babes with the wet nurse. “You heard singing? Coming from Joden?”

  She returned to her chair with Keirson in her arms, and put him to her shoulder, patting his back. “Are you sure?”

  Amyu shrugged. “He was unconscious when I found him, Warprize.” She continued to describe his condition and the actions she had taken. She told of Joden walking toward the edge, but didn’t mention the visions. That was Joden’s part of the tale to tell.

  She kept an eye on Joden as she talked, making sure he ate and drank as he listened, occasionally nodding his agreement.

  Once she was sure he’d eaten his fill, she wrapped up the tale with meeting Rafe and the others.

  Marcus shoved a plate at her, with a mug of kavage.

  “Joden?” Keir leaned forward. “How did you get there from the Plains?”

  He’d dreaded this.

  Joden took a sip of kavage, and then stared down into it. Whatever else he was, he was no coward.

  The babe in Lara’s arms started waving his fists around. Lara moved her face away, avoiding those tiny hands.

  Joden smiled at Lara. “Th-th-the T-t-tribe h-h-has g-g-grown. Th-th-the t-t-tribe h-h-has f-f-f-” he closed his eyes, and screwed up his face. “F-f-f-lourished.”

  Lara returned the smile a thousandfold.

  Joden lifted his head, and looked Keir in the eye.

  “I-I-I,” he paused and took a breath, fighting panic. How was he going to—

  Amyu settled down on the floor with her meal, just in front of his chair. She leaned back slightly, putting pressure against his leg. With no other obvious sign of support, she started eating.

  Joden puffed out that breath and tried again. “T-t-the T-t-trials of S-s-singer,” he forced out. “I ch-ch-chose an old path.”

  There was a flicker of pained sympathy over Keir’s face, but then he settled back in his chair and waited.

  Joden frowned, more to himself than anything, trying to decide what to say. “I-I-I c-c-cannot tell all. B-b-but the winds t-t-took me wh-wh-where they w-w-willed.”

  Marcus had taken Kayla into his arms, and the wet nurse slipped out the door. He brought the babe to Keir, who took her with a smile of thanks. Kayla was fussing, and Keir put her to his shoulder and drummed her back softly.

  “And Simus? When did you leave him?” Keir asked.

  Joden struggled on, telling of Simus’s trials and Snowfall’s appearance. It took what felt like hours, but he didn’t give up. Keir had to know, and had to hear it from Joden.

  “Y-y-yers w-w-wrong,” Joden said finally. His head was pounding, and his neck and shoulders ached with the strain of trying to speak. He was tired and frustrated, but his truth needed to be said. “S-s-simus is l-l-loyal t-t-to y-y-you.”

  Keir stood, taking the babe to a cradle nearby. His face was grim, his silence speaking more than words.

  Keirson started to cry as Lara rose. “This boy,” she said, shaking her head. “I swear he hates to sleep. Like he might miss something.” She rocked him for a bit until he settled, then put him in the cradle next to his sister.

  Everyone held their breath, but Keirson settled quietly.

  Lara turned, her voice hushed. “Enough. The babes need their sleep, and I think everyone could benefit from rest. I, for one, am taking a nap.”

  Joden rose, as Keir gestured toward the door. “Come. Let’s see to a room for you.”

  Joden took a step, then hesitated, looking back at Amyu, still seated on the floor. She gave him a nod of encouragement, and it was enou
gh.

  Joden nodded back, ignoring the glances of the others. He turned and followed Keir. They eased out of the door quietly, but once it was closed behind them, Joden shook his head.

  “S-s-spar?” he asked.

  Keir’s face lit up. “There’s a practice ring outside the kitchens.”

  Amyu rose quietly as the others left. The Warprize had already eased herself onto the bed, and the babes were sleeping. She’d follow Joden and see to it that he—

  Marcus was in front of her, dirty dishes in hand and a glare in his eye.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Amyu was grateful that Marcus let her change into tunic and trous and tie back her hair before marching her down to the scrubbing room off the kitchens. He was in little mood to let her do anything else, already grousing at her as they walked.

  The large stone room held wooden tubs for washing, with long, narrow windows high on the walls. Sunlight streamed in through the steam as the kitchen maids poured heated water in the tubs, chattering as they worked. They looked up when Marcus entered, raising eyebrows, and clearing a space for them. There was no lack of understanding glances Amyu’s way.

  “What were you thinking?” he groused as he plunged the dishes into one of the tubs. “Herself just giving birth and has two new babes to care for, and you traipsing—” he gestured for Amyu to wash.

  Amyu stayed silent, and concentrated on each dish. Never mind that Anna’s staff would have washed these as well, especially since they were close to finishing their tasks. Amyu knew that this wasn’t really about the dishes.

  But she wasn’t going to prolong the lecture by missing a spot.

  “Herself all flustered, with not having enough milk—”

  That got Marcus some dirty looks from the women around them. Men in Xy didn’t talk about babies apparently, or breasts or the milk they contained. Amyu noticed some rolling eyes in their direction. Of course, men in Xy also did not wash dishes.

  Which puzzled Amyu. They ate, didn’t they?

  But the maids' disapproval didn’t stop Marcus’s sharp tongue. At least he was drying as he scolded.

  “—finding out you caused the old cheesemaker to collapse. Herself is fond of her—”

  Amyu flushed at that. She’d no defense against his truths. She had caused the old woman’s rage, as angry as anyone she’d seen without a sword in hand.

  “A woman just giving birth, finally having to send someone to find your sorry carcass and—”

  The maids had finished and scurried out, leaving just her and Marcus. The pile of dishes had diminished, but quite a few remained. Amyu poured more hot water in, and set to work with a will as Marcus continued to rant. At least he hadn’t decided they’d do dishes for the entire castle.

  Shouts from outside, and the sound of sword on sword, coming from the narrow windows just above her head.

  “Hisself and Joden, no doubt,” Marcus rubbed a pitcher dry. “The practice circle is just outside.”

  Amyu lifted up on tip-toe, catching a glimpse of Joden through the high window.

  He was circling Keir, laughing, his grin wide. His bronze face glistened with sweat, and his laugh… his laugh boomed out as Keir lunged and missed.

  Amyu dropped down and stared at her wet hands.

  “Good for them both,” Marcus said gruffly. “Work the body to ease the worries.”

  Amyu turned her head to look at the scarred man next to her, calmer now that he’d had his say. “He almost went to the snows.” she shared.

  Marcus’s scarred lips thinned, but he said nothing.

  “He is broken,” she admitted in the quiet room. “Like us.” She picked up a wet bowl and picked at a bit of dried food with her nail. “I fear for him.”

  “Dishes don’t wash themselves,” Marcus said pointedly.

  Amyu stared down at the bowl. “How did you bear it, Marcus?” she asked, then froze, shocked that those words had come from her mouth.

  Silence.

  Maybe she hadn’t actually said the words out loud, and praise all the elements that—

  “How did you?” Marcus asked. Quietly, without anger or shame.

  Amyu didn’t look at him. “The Warprize gave me hope. I thought to find… more. To prove my worth is more than an ability to bear children.”

  She risked a glance to find Marcus nodding his agreement. She dared to breathe.

  “I had a reason,” Marcus said quietly. “People who I needed to protect. I lived for them, not for my own self. I lived for the Tribe, but it was not without pain or cost.”

  Amyu stared down at the bowl again, watching a soap bubble pop.

  “Dishes won’t wash themselves,” Marcus said again.

  She nodded, and started back to work.

  “He will need to find his own reason,” Marcus continued. “But the loss of a voice for a Singer,” he shook his head. “That is not easy to overcome.”

  Amyu’s eyes teared up. She nodded, and for a while they worked in silence.

  A movement at the door had them both looking up. Rafe stood there, his irrepressible grin in place. “Marcus, may I speak with Amyu? Under the bells,” he added, trying to look apologetic.

  Marcus sniffed but nodded.

  Amyu dried her hands and stepped over, but Rafe pulled her further away to stand in the doorway. Fylin, Soar, Ksand and Lasa stood there, just out of sight, all with an air of excitement. They were holding bundles and saddle bags stuffed to bursting.

  “Amyu, we have permission from the Warlord to go back to your mountain path and explore,” Rafe kept his voice down, his joy obvious. “Come with us.”

  Amyu blinked in surprise. “You don’t believe in airions,” she blurted out.

  “Truth,” Soar’s eyes sparkled as the rest chuckled. “At best, we find some sign of them. At worst, we escape these stone tents for a few days.”

  “Days?” Amyu asked.

  Rafe nodded. “There are no orders yet, but every warrior will march with the Warlord when he returns to the Plains. Sooner rather than later. The Warlord will want every able-bodied warrior with him.” He shrugged. “I think he will call senel soon. But we will take these few days and explore, and find your airions. Come with us.”

  “No, I—” the words were out of her mouth without a thought, but then she hesitated. This might be her last chance to find the creatures. And yet…

  She looked down the hallway, toward the open door and beyond. Joden still sparred with Keir in the sunlight. He was still laughing.

  “Something more important than flying, eh?” Rafe asked.

  Something in her heart twisted.

  Fylin frowned. “He is to be a Singer—” she started.

  “And I am a child,” Amyu said the hateful words first defiantly, hoping to ease her pain. It didn’t, but it caught Fylin by surprise.

  “My thanks, Rafe.” Amyu turned away from the open door. “But I think I need to make amends.” She tilted her head slightly toward Marcus, dishes finished, waiting with his one eyebrow raised.

  “As you say,” Rafe said with a knowing grin, and they were off.

  Amyu took a breath. It was the right thing, after all. To make amends for her disobedience. But oddly, she didn’t have even a twinge of regret about not going with them.

  She returned to Marcus’s side. “What next?” she asked.

  “Nappies,” Marcus smirked as he produced a wooden washing paddle. “And you will aid in the night feedings.”

  Amyu sighed.

  Lara lifted her head from her pillow, watching Keir slip into their room, fully armed and armored, the hilts of his swords poking up over his shoulders. He caught her eyes and padded in, casting a wary eye on the babies. He raised an eyebrow and tilted his head toward the cradle.

  Lara nodded.

  Keir made a show of slowly retreating to the garderobe. Lara smiled, and let her head drop back, enjoying these quiet moments of peace. All too soon the babes would need tending. She stretched under the blanket, revelin
g in the moment.

  Keir returned, wearing only trous, his bare feet quiet on the stone floor. He climbed under the covers, and pulled her into his arms. He pulled the covers over their heads like a tent, and kissed her.

  “I heard you sparring with Joden,” she whispered in his ear. “Only a warrior of the Plains would think ‘rest’ means the same as ‘fight’.”

  Keir gave her an unrepentant smile. “Joden needed it as much as I. He was far more relaxed by that than by talking.”

  “Did he fight well?” she asked, knowing that would be a concern.

  “Yes,” Keir said. “Whatever happened has not affect his skill with a blade.”

  “Give him time,” Lara leaned closer to nuzzle Keir’s neck. She loved the scent of his skin. “His problem speaking may be a passing thing.”

  “Time may not be on our side,” Keir said slowly.

  Lara pulled back, watching his face. “Do you still doubt Simus?”

  Keir was silent, his eyes hooded.

  “Well, I don’t,” Lara said firmly. “Simus would never betray you. I know what Yers said, but I—”

  Keir laid a finger on her lips, and Lara realized that her voice had risen. She hushed. They both waited, but no sound came from the cradle.

  “Simus is loyal,” Keir said. “That is a truth. But it is also true that we do not know the extent of the warrior-priests’ power. Now a warrior-priestess challenges to become his token-bearer, and he allows it? What if he is influenced, or even controlled?” Keir moved his hand to stroke her cheek, his skin warm against hers. “What if he leads an army to the border, and suddenly attacks Liam?”

  “Liam of the Deer has warriors, both of the Plains and Xy,” Lara said.

  “Liam of the Deer has some warriors,” Keir said. “But mostly the skilled workers we sent to repair that old tower. And if Antas follows on Simus’s heels?”

  His hand stopped stroking her cheek, and Lara reached for it to grasp it in her own.

  “Now Joden brings word that Wild Winds is dead, because of a vision he saw,” Keir said. “What weight do I give to that truth? And if so, who leads the warrior-priests now?”