WarDance (Chronicles of the Warlands #5)(101)

“Interesting,” Ietha drawled. “That Xyians have a name for the monsters, but gave no warning.”

“Your truth, Ietha?” Essa asked.

Ietha mimicked Simus, and rose to her knees. “What should be clear to all of us. The creatures were sent to destroy us. They came from the north, out of the mountains of Xy, and laid waste at the exact moment the Elders were gathered. At the exact moment that Simus and his people were not within the tent—were, in fact, nowhere to be seen.” Ietha glared at Simus. “Keir and his city-dwelling bragnects—”

“Silence,” Essa said sharply.

Ietha pressed her lips together, breathing hard. She glared at Essa for a long moment, then obeyed and sat back down. Simus sat as well.

“A Council of the Elders is called and presided over by the four Eldest of each branch,” Essa recited in what Simus thought of as a ‘Singer’s voice’. The very tone seemed to calm the room. “A Council names the Warlords, make major decisions on behalf of all the Tribes.” Essa paused, scanning the room. “There are decisions we must make, prey we must pull down, at this Council,” Essa said. “But as we speak our warriors and armies are at risk. There are also our thea camps, each of which must be warned.” He looked out over all of them. “So I will cut short the hunt. We’ve not enough candidates for all the Warlord positions. All here are worthy. All here have met their Trials.” His face grew stern. “I will not waste breath or time. Here is the heart of the matter: Should Simus of the Hawk be named as a Warlord of the Plains?”

Simus’s tongue dried in his mouth.

“How is this fair?” Elois hissed, but he placed his hand on her knee. Thankfully, the anger that erupted around them covered her outburst. Anger from both sides, to Simus’s shock, from friends and foes and in-betweens.

Tsor said nothing, but shifted slightly to take in more of the room, so that he could watch Simus’s back.

“We have always debated,” Ultie said loudly. “You’d silence our truths?”

“Our people are at risk,” Essa’s anger flared, cutting through the noise. “They are exposed, and in need of guidance. Would you leave them in harm’s way?”

Haya spoke up. “The supplies for the Tribes must be gathered. We can’t delay the raiding season any further.”

The muttering subsided.

“If the tent were raised, if our skies were clear, we could exchange truths and argue for hours, days.” Essa folded his arms over his chest. “But I will deal with what is, and if in doing so I make the choices necessary for all, so be it. We have time for little else. I would call for a vote. Here. Now. Raise your hands in support of Simus of the Hawk as Warlord of the North.”

Simus had to clench his jaw to keep it from dropping.

He wasn’t alone. Wild Winds was staring at Essa like he’d never seen him before, but then he raised his hand.

Haya’s hand shot up beside him.

Simus glanced around as hands were raised for him. Some anticipated, some a surprise. The hands not raised were not unexpected. Nires of the Boar. Ietha.

But the vote was divided equally. The look of satisfaction on Ietha’s face grated.

Simus watched as Essa drew a long breath, and lifted his chin as if still counting, but Simus knew the result. Essa’s bold move had not resolved the issue, but there was still hope. Now there would be debate and division. Simus resigned himself to—

Loual’s splinted hand slowly rose in the air.

“What?’ Ietha exploded. “Why?”

Loual lowered his hand and rose to his knees. “Because of what I have witnessed,” he said. “A city-dweller caring for me and my people.” He gestured to Mirro. “Because of what I have been told by Mirro, who was my Third, and now serves as my Second. He tells me of an unarmed city-dweller, a healer, who charged forward to render aid where no warrior would go.”

“You favor them,” Ietha accused.

“Do I?” Loual raised an eyebrow. “Sending Simus and his people north? To where the monsters came from? To where they and their get will likely return?” He gestured to Simus. “It will be their problem. Let them deal with the havoc they have wrought.”

“So it is done,” Essa intoned, to be interrupted when Ietha jerked to her feet, hitting her head on the ceiling in her haste.

“No,” Ietha growled. “I will not be a party to this, Singer. This is not our way. Already they have destroyed everything they have touched.”

“Ietha, listen to reason,” Wild Winds said. “It was not they that caused the Sacrifice, it was—”

“To the snows with your reasoning,” Ietha snarled. “I go to Antas.” She stomped out, keeping her head low, followed by her Second and Token-bearer.

Essa spoke. “Let us waste no more time. We will take the oaths of the Warlords and disburse.”

“Let it be done outside,” Wild Winds said. “For the skies and all the people to witness.”

“Agreed,” Essa said.

They emerged, blinking in the sun to find a gathering of warriors awaiting news. Destal was standing there, arms crossed over her chest, her young warriors clustered behind her.

Simus’s heart caught in his throat. Snowfall stood with them.

He walked over as the others emerged from the lodge and organized themselves along Essa’s wishes. Other warriors, attracted by the sight, started to gather, leading saddled horses.