“What do you need, Aret?” Keir asked.
“More watchers spread about the herds,” she responded quickly. “Since the attacks come from cover, maybe a squad to patrol the tree line.”
“Doubt they’ll use the same move twice,” Simus offered.
“Not the first time an enemy’s made mistakes,” a man with darker brown hair and a crooked nose replied. “Let me take some archers into the trees. We’ll set them up high and let them wait out the night.
With starlight, we’ll spot them first and that will end it.”
Aret nodded. “I like that, Yers. But you may have a long night of waiting.”
“Me? Not so.” Yers grinned. “I’ll send the young ones, full of enthusiasm and energy. It’ll teach them patience.” That drew chuckles.
“This morning I sent Iften to speak to the Xyian King about these attacks. Iften, tell us what you learned.”
It was the blond I’d encountered in Simus’s tent. He rose from his seat near the center of the room, a smug look on his face. “I went into the city with an escort and demanded speech with the defeated king.”
Simus guffawed. “That attitude made your welcome sure.”
Iften didn’t look at Simus. “I gave him the courtesy that the Warlord bade me. Not that he deserved it.”
Keir frowned, and Iften continued hurriedly. “I told him of the attacks, and he denied knowledge of them, and also denied that his people would do such a thing.” Iften turned slightly, as if addressing the room, rather than reporting to Keir. Behind me, Marcus muttered something under his breath. “I told this city-dweller that to murder a horse is to murder a child, and that swift and deadly punishment would fall on any who so dared. The defeated king said that he would investigate the matter.” Iften’s disdain was clear.
“What was his manner?” Keir’s voice was soft.
“As one who brushes aside a fly,” Iften snarled. “I told him to report to you and he said that would be done.”
Keir sat quiet as the room stirred about us. I half expected an explosion of temper from him, but none came. “Aret, set the extra watchers. Yers, your idea is a good one, but I want patrols as well. You and Aret decide the placement and timing.”
Aret seemed well satisfied, as did Yers. Iften, as if realizing Keir was done with him, moved to sit down with a disgruntled look.
“Iften.” Keir’s voice carried over the heads of everyone present.
“Warlord?” Iften stopped and rose to his full height.
“Have a care, Iften, for Xymund is my defeated king, and you will offer him respect or answer to me.”
Everyone fell silent, and seemed to study their kavage closely. Iften gave Keir a nod, then settled back on to his stool. I noticed that the disgruntled look had become more pronounced.
“Sal?” Keir turned to an older, grey-haired woman. “Supplies?”
They launched into a discussion of food and gear, and I was stunned to learn that the Warlord’s army was paying for supplies. While the conversation had moved on, clearly Iften remained unhappy. But I had other concerns. There was such a need for medicines and the like, but I didn’t know my place at this meeting. I felt more prize than participant. The Warlord had a temper, that much was clear, one that flared fast and hot. I shuddered inside, remembering his fury at the sight of a few bruises. How angry would he be if I spoke out now?
Keir finally sat back, and handed his empty plate to Marcus. “We’ve covered the concerns I had. Before I speak as to my plans, is there anything else?” The other servers were passing though the room with fresh kavage. Marcus was leaning over to get my plate when-he stiffened. I looked around him to see a man step forward, and pick up the bundle from the stool in the center of the room.
“Wesren?” Keir’s voice held a questioning tone.
He was a short, stocky man with thick black hair and beard. “I hold your token, Warlord. I give voice to one truth.”
Marcus moved back beside me, handing off the plates to another server. His eye was firmly fixed on the speaking man.
“You’ve said there’s to be no releases from regular duties, or leave of camp.” Wesren drew a quick breath. “Been some time since that’s been granted, and that’s passing hard, Warlord.” He shifted, uneasy under Keir’s stare.
Keir paused for a long drink of kavage, looking at the man over the rim of his cup. “Any further truths to voice?”
Wesren stood, holding the token. “No, Warlord.”
“You felt the need to hold my token for this?”
