WarDance (Chronicles of the Warlands #5)(3)

“You said ‘of the few’?” Simus asked.

Osa nodded, settling back in the saddle as her horse lowered its head to tear at the grass. “The warrior-priests drove us off yesterday at dawn. Ultie and I have ridden the wide circle around, to see who has appeared for the contests. We found fewer than I could wish.”

“Four Warlords for each of the four elements are required,” Ultie growled. “Less than half of that have appeared, and most of them new to the contests. Colts, all of them, and unsteady on their legs.”

“Especially when you ride up and bellow at them like a rutting ehat,” Osa said dryly, then focused on Simus. “But he states the truth. Few warriors have appeared to raise their banners for challenge, and fewer still of the elders of any tribe have gathered.”

“Where are they?” Joden’s frown was deep and worried.

“Made themselves scarce, and there’s wisdom in that,” Ultie said darkly. “With the Council sundered last season, and warrior attacking warrior, who is to know what to expect?”

“The Council was concluded,” Joden said. “Eldest Elder Essa ended the Council after the out-casting, and before the Warprize chose her Warlord.”

“Don’t know what that city-dweller was thinking,” Ultie groused. “I would have been a better choice. What does Keir have over me?”

“You dropped your trous to show her your ‘weapon,’” Osa said. “Little wonder she stomped from your tent and declared the courting at an end.”

Simus kept his face straight, and didn’t dare look at Joden.

“City-dwellers,” Ultie snorted in disgust. “I will never understand them. And Keir thinks we can—”

“Regardless,” Osa cut him off. Her horse lowered its head to graze, the bells chiming in its mane. “Have either of you seen any of the Eldest Elders? Reness? Essa? Wild Winds?”

“Reness left with Keir and the Warprize,” Simus said. “They have returned to Xy for the birth of her child, and Reness thought to attend her. She may have continued on with them to Xy. Of Essa, I have not heard or seen. And Wild Winds—” Simus looked at Joden.

“The warrior-priest who barred our way said that Hail Storm was the Eldest Elder of the Warrior-Priests,” Joden said.

Osa and Ultie exchanged glances. “Not a name I know,” Ultie said grimly. “Not that they share their names.” He looked at all of them. “But I will speak this truth. I have held back the Elders among my warriors. They will not approach the Heart unless I send word.”

Simus frowned. “Why would you—”

“To keep them safe,” Ultie said. “To wait and watch and see what is. To not risk their knowledge and wisdom to the madness that seems to infect us now.” He glowered at Simus. “Has Keir thought of that, eh? If there are not enough Warlords? How will the armies raid, to provide for our people and the thea camps? How will we survive, eh?”

“Liam will come, if needed, although he will wait at the border of Xy.” Simus met Ultie’s glare. “There is time yet, for others to appear and set up the challenge banners for Warlords and Token-bearers and to form the armies.”

“And if they do not?” Ultie said, his horse as agitated as he.

“And if the sun does not rise?” Osa said impatiently. “I can say this much. Antas of the Boar was seen, cloaked and hooded, going into one of the camps of the warrior-priests.”

Simus narrowed his eyes at that news. Antas had been the Eldest Elder of the Warriors, until his betrayal of the Council. He’d tried to have the Warprize slain in the very Council tent. “I wonder what he sought there?” Simus mused.

Ultie just snorted. “Antas would be Keir, if he could.”

“Perhaps he seeks to be WarKing as well,” Osa said mildly.

Simus jerked his head up to stare at her.

“Oh, do not give me that look, Simus.” Osa gave him a sly smile. “He may not have shouted it to the winds, but how else can Keir plan to repair the damage he has caused? He has cut the Council tent to ribbons and only a WarKing can mend the tears.”

“He caused?” Simus asked.

Osa shrugged. “Many say so.”

“The warrior-priests alone cannot make Antas WarKing,” Joden pointed out. “That requires the full Council and the Eldest Elders.”

“And round and round we go,” Osa said. She tilted her head, and studied Joden. “And do you support Keir as WarKing?”

“I take no position,” Joden said.

“And if you were Singer?” Osa pushed.

“You ask me to comment if I were Singer? If the Council re-forms, if the Eldest Elders are found, if the Warlords are chosen and the armies formed?” Joden chuckled. “You might as well ask in what pattern the clouds will form tomorrow.”

Osa’s smile was wry. “A Singer’s answer.”

Joden shrugged.

Ultie started to turn his horse. “Well, this talk will not settle anything, and I’ve had my fill for this night. We can talk further as we sit and wait for the warrior-priests to finish whatever they would do at the Heart.” He spat in the grass. “Elements grant that the prey they stalk turns on them.”

“Night comes. Time enough tomorrow to beat theses grasses flat,” Osa agreed. She took the bells from her horse’s mane. “Seems we must wait on events.” She wrinkled her nose, gave them both a nod and rode off.