Wesren stiffened. His movement jangling the bells of the token. “Ways are changing under your hand, Warlord. Felt the need to be careful.” Keir’s gaze never wavered and Wesren shifted his weight again, his eyes darting about the room as if looking for support.
Keir put him out of his misery. “I will speak to your truths.”
Wesren nodded, placed the token back on its stool, and returned to his seat.
“Although it appears that we have won, still I have doubts about this peace.”
I jerked, alarmed at his words. If he noticed, Keir did not react. “This peace calls for their king to acknowledge me as Warlord of this land. His oath has been given, yet out horses are attacked in the night. Until I am satisfied of his obedience and our safety, we will remain on alert and on guard, as if in enemy lands.” Keir held up a hand to control reactions, since the decision was not popular. “Besides, I remind you that their ways are not our ways. Before our peoples intermingle, we need to make sure that there is understanding. For example, Xyian women do not lay with men until they are bonded.” That set them all aback, and every eye focused on me. The expressions ran the gauntlet from pity to amazement to mirth. I flushed at the attention, and focused on my shoes.
“To prevent problems, everyone remains in camp.” Keir emphasized his order.
“What of a pattern dance, Warlord?” Simus flashed his grin. “That would work off excess energy.”
That was met with laughter and smiles. Keir laughed as well. “Good idea. What say you, Wesren?”
“We’d all enjoy a good pattern, Warlord.”
“Announce it then, for two days hence. Plenty of time to weave new patterns.” Keir stood and stretched. “If there are no further—”
“I hold your token, Warlord.”
Conversation stopped. Iften was standing with the bundle in his hand. I caught Keir and Simus exchanging a glance as Keir sat back down. Iften lifted the item in his hand and shook it slightly so the bells chimed.
“I give voice to two truths. Joden remains unpunished for his violation of our ways.”
There was a stir at this statement.
“The other truth?” Keir’s voice was very non-committal.
“That your attempts to rescue Simus by going into the city alone were reckless, and showed disregard for this army and your responsibilities.”
My mouth dropped open. A statement like that would have Xymund calling for executioners. Keir merely sat up a bit straighter on his stool. “Any further truths to voice?”
Iften stood, holding the token. “No.”
“I will speak to your truths.” Iften nodded, placed the token back on its stool, and returned to his seat. “
Before I speak to these truths, I would tell you that a rider fell in practice this morning, breaking her leg.”
The overall reaction was one of dismay. One voice rose from the back. “Her name?”
Keir responded. “I do not know. We will ask it of the warprize, who saw the incident, had the warrior taken to the healing tent, and healed the leg.”
All eyes focused on me. I swallowed my food. “Her name is Atira.” There was a general murmuring at that. I darted a quick glance at Keir. “But the leg is not yet healed.
Bone healing takes time.“
One woman leaned forward on her stool. “You have done this before? Healed a broken limb?”
I looked at her. “Yes.”
Talk swelled, but Keir spoke over it. “I acknowledge the truth that Joden’s actions were not of our tradition. I leave it to Simus as to what punishment there should be for the man who failed to grant him mercy in the face of capture. However, I voice the truth that had he followed our tradition, there would be no warprize.” He looked at me, a pleased expression on his face. “I think you all begin to see what I see.”
I shifted on the stool, uneasy as the object of attention.
Keir focused back on the group. “I answer to the other truth that has been raised.” He grinned ruefully. “I acknowledge the recklessness of my action. When have I not acted so?” Laughter met that statement. “I’
ll consider the truth that I had no regard for my men and my responsibilities.” I could see Iften scowling, less than satisfied. But Keir was not finished. “But do not think to turn me into a fat king that directs his men from a tower.” There was another burst of laughter at that, and from the sly looks in my direction, I had a feeling they were talking about Xymund.
