Hail Storm’s eye flickered in Hanstau’s direction. “You can court your so-called Warprize later,” he said. “Order the theas to bring me their young warriors. Those that will go through the rites next year.”
“Even Warlords do not ‘order’ theas,” Antas growled. “Especially concerning the young.”
“You will if you want them trained.” Hail Storm moved as if to cross his arms, hesitated, and then let them drop to his side. “They will give them to me to be… enlightened as to new ways. Powerful ways.”
Something about those words made the hair on the back of Hanstau’s neck prickle. The very air around them changed, thickened with disapproval. For a brief moment, he thought to see if he could focus. See the golden power, see if it gathered near Hail Storm. No one would know—
‘Don’t assume’Reness’s advice echoed.
Hanstau stilled.
“I will suggest the theas talk to you. Suggest that they send young ones for your training.” Antas growled. “No more.”
“As you choose, Warlord,” Hail Storm gave a mocking bow, spun on his heel and left. There was silence until the bells at the entrance chimed again.
Hanstau let out his breath slowly, and looked up to find Antas standing there, watching him.
“You do not like Hail Storm,” Antas gestured after the man.
“He is a bad man,” Hanstau said, trying to find other words for his revulsion. “He is without truth.”
Antas nodded, but there was no agreement in his eyes. “I will do what needs to be done to protect the Plains,” he said slowly, as if trying to make sure that Hanstau understood every word. He stepped closer, looming over Hanstau. “I will claim you as Warprize,” he said, reaching out to caress Hanstau’s face.
Hanstau jerked away.
Antas swiftly clamped Hanstau’s jaw, and forced his head back. “You will be my Warprize.” He leaned in, his breath hot on Hanstau’s cheek. “Or Hail Storm will make you.”
Hanstau froze, pinned by cruel blue eyes.
A jangle of bells at the door, and Catha appeared. “There is a Singer without. One Quartis, sent from Eldest Elder Singer Essa.”
Antas hissed in a breath. “I will welcome him. See this one back to his tent, well cloaked. Keep him hidden.”
Catha nodded, disappearing to get the cloak.
Antas released Hanstau’s jaw, only to reach down and grab a handful of tunic. He pulled Hanstau up, almost off his feet, toes just touching the ground.
Hanstau grabbed for the man’s arm.
Antas pulled him close, and whispered in his ear. “Him or me, understood? Him or me.”
“Understood,” Hanstau strangled out the word.
“Consider my truths well,” Antas growled, and released him.
Hanstau stumbled back a bit, almost tripping over the stool. By the time he regained his balance, Antas was gone.
Catha and the guards hustled Hanstau back to the tent, stripping off the cloak from his back as he stepped within.
Reness frowned up at him from her pallet.
“Shoes,” barked the guard.
Hanstau toed them off, and kicked them toward him. The guard swept them up with a grunt, and then left, tying the tent flap behind him.
“You’re shaking,” Reness whispered, rising slowly from her pallet. “What happened?”
Hanstau stared at her mutely.
