“Careless,” she growled softly. “Stupid. He—”
Before she finished her thought, the tent flap opened, and the other guard poked his head in. He stared at Hanstau, who stared back, frozen in horror.
Not Reness. She rose from the ground, dagger in hand, and plunged it into the guard’s throat. He jerked, and she grabbed his collar and pulled him in to lay next to the other one, twitching his last.
Before Hanstau could draw a breath, Reness was beside him, her fingers on his lips.
“We must move quickly,” she whispered. “But first there is a choice.”
“You killed them,” Hanstau stared at the bodies, unable to believe his eyes.
“I am a thea,” Reness said simply, as if that explained all.
“But our plans,” Hanstau sputtered. “We were going to try to finesse—”
“I do not finesse,” Reness said. “A choice, Hanstau,” she continued and raised his chin so his eyes met hers. “We can slip away, and get to horses. Or we can warn—”
“The children,” Hanstau whispered, his heart pounding in his chest. “We must protect them.”
“Good,” Reness nodded approvingly. “Help me.” she knelt by the guard and started to strip his armor and weapons.
Hanstau hesitated, then went for the boots.
“Antas will have war drums near his tent,” Reness whispered as they worked. “I will escort you. Those who know will expect you to come, dressed as a healer and fully cloaked. I can use the drums to signal the thea camps. Or—” she hesitated over the lacings. “Or I will go, and you can flee alone. You might have a better chance—”
“And be a city-dweller wandering lost on the Plains,” Hanstau muttered, shifting off the guard’s leather trous. “Might as well kill me now.”
Reness coughed back a laugh.
“No,” Hanstau said. “I go with you. If nothing else, I can ward your back.”
“Once I drum the signal, they will come for us,” Reness said, her face grim. “It will rest with the elements whether we live or die.”
“Better that than becoming Hail Storm’s puppet,” Hanstau said. “Just promise—”
“I will send you to the snows,” Reness reached out over the guard’s body and touched Hanstau’s cheek. “Know this truth, Hanstau of Xy. You excite my heart. If we should survive this, I truly wish to discover if I can curl those precious toes of yours.”
Hanstau gulped, and flushed. “That would be…” his mouth went dry.
Reness’s smile turned feral. “Yes, it would be. At the very first opportunity.” She drew a breath. “Now let us dress. There isn’t much time.”
The Token-Bearer steppedforward, the Warlord’s token in hand. “Rise and hail Antas, Warlord of the Tribes and Eldest Elder Warrior to the Council of Elders.”
Quartis rose with the rest, bowing his head, and waited for Antas to enter.
Singers were the knowledge of the Plains, or so it was said. His master Essa had sent him to this camp with instructions.‘Watch, observe, learn more than they do.’
He’d learned more than he’d expected.
Antas would have it that his hold on his people was firm. But the air in this command tent felt overheated and nervous. All was not as it seemed, and for days Quartis had tried to learn more. He’d been treated with every courtesy, but every move had been watched. And all mouths were silent in Antas’s camp, with few willing to voice truths. Even to a Singer.
A wisp of cooler air preceded Antas as he entered the tent, followed by his Second Veritt and the Warlord Ietha. They made their way to their seats on the wooden platform. Quartis had been placed prominently before the platform, but not on it. Clearly put in his place.
“Be seated, all,” Antas stood as they all resumed their seats. “I have called senel to speak of events, and to make my decisions. Let us share kavage as we talk.”
Catha, the Token-Bearer and three others started to pass through the crowd with pitchers and wooden bowls for the handwashing ritual.
Quartis washed and dried his hands, thanking the elements quietly. He was a Singer, and had been for many seasons. His skin seemed to crackle with tension, and unspoken threat in the air. He’d kept his thoughts off his face and out of his voice.
