Chapter 1
"Bloodmoss! That's bloodmoss, Marcus!" I leaned over, trying to get a better look. I waspositive that the grubby little plant I was seeing passing under the hooves of the horse was therare herb. "Let me down!"
The horse we were riding danced as my weight shifted and Marcus tightened up the reins. "Ifyou don't stop wiggling, you're gonna tumble off, and embarrass Hisself and me." Marcusgroused as the horse pranced under us.
I tightened my grip on his waist. "If you let me ride by myself, this wouldn't be a problem."
He huffed. "You can't ride worth a damn, and your feet remain sore. Now sit still! How would itlook, the Warprize sprawled in the dirt?"
"Marcus, I am a Master Healer and my feet are healing fine."
"You know from nothing," Marcus growled. "I will judge if the Warprize is fit to walk."
I settled back, frustrated. I might be Xylara, Master Healer, Daughter of the House of Xy,Queen of Xy, Warprize of Keir of the Tribe of the Cat, Warlord of the Plains, but as far asMarcus was concerned I was little more than an unruly child. I sighed, and leaned my head onthe back of his shoulder. "I can ride just fine."
Marcus snorted. "About as well as you tend your own feet."
Therein lay one of my problems. When I'd made the decision to follow the Warlord's army, I'ddone so in the same garb I'd worn for the original claiming ceremony. Since tradition requiredthat the Warprize accept nothing except from the hand of the Warlord, I had walked barefootbehind the army for some time before Keir had discovered what I was doing and reclaimed me.
Following my Warlord, challenging his decision, had been the best choice, both for us and forour peoples.
Choosing to walk barefoot had not been quite so clever.
Joden, in training as a Singer, said that by choosing to honor the traditions of the Plains, I hadmade a powerful statement, one that would ring in the songs he was crafting. Marcus hadarched his one eyebrow over his remaining eye, and inquired if the fact that my feet hadsickened afterwards would be in the first verse or the second.
I straightened slowly, craning my neck to look around, careful not to disturb the horse thistime. We were at the center of the Firelander Army, returning to the Plains. Not that Keir'speople called themselves 'Firelanders'. That was a term my people used. Keir's people used 'ofthe Plains' which sounded awkward to my ears. In my thoughts, at least, they remained theFirelanders. Of course, I no longer add 'cursed' or 'evil' or thought that they belched fire. I stillhad hopes of seeing a blue one, though. There were brown ones, and black ones, and someeven had a yellow tinge to their skin. Who knew what further wonders awaited me on thePlains?
Xy was really a large, wide mountain valley, that spread out all around us. I'd never been thisfar from Water's Fall before, never seen the furthest reaches of what was now my kingdom.
The trees were starting to turn, their colors all laid out below us as we traveled.
Marcus and I were surrounded by horses and riders, which spilled out beyond the road as werode. Keir had ordered that I travel at the center of this moving mass of warriors and horses.
Even so, I knew that my guards would not be far away. Rafe and Prest were ahead of us, Icould just see their backs. "Rafe!"
Marcus jerked his head under the hood of his cloak, and muttered. Fall was upon us, but theday was fine, and the sun warm on our backs. But not for Marcus. He'd suffered horrible burnsat sometime in the past that had left him disfigured, taking away his left eye and burning hisleft ear completely away. So Marcus always rode cloaked, wrapped well lest the skies beoffended by his scars. Yet another aspect of these people that I didn't understand.
Rafe turned and waved, and he and Prest slowed their mounts so that we could catch up withthem. Marcus grumbled, but maneuvered his horse between them.
"Rafe, see that plant?" I tried to point it out to him as we moved.
"Plant?" Rafe looked in confusion at the ground. "Warprize…"
"The pale one; the one that looks like moss, but it's butter-colored."
Rafe shrugged. "Wouldn't it be easier to pick it yourself?"
I rolled my eyes in frustration. "Marcus won't stop!"
Rafe let his laughter ring out, then Prest reached over and grabbed the halter of our horse.
Marcus exclaimed bitterly, but Prest guided us out of the crush. I had to smile, even in myfrustration. Rafe always had a grin for me. He was a smaller man, thin, with fair skin and deepblack hair and brown eyes. Quite a contrast to my other guard, Prest. Prest was much larger,and a quiet one, with skin of brown, and black hair in twenty thick braids that fell to the centerof his back. More a man of action than words, he calmly guided the horses off to the side,where we could stop.
I started to wiggle off, but Marcus would have none of it. "You are to stay off those feet, youare."
"Marcus—"
Rafe swung down off his horse. "Point it out to me, Warprize and I'll get you handfuls."
