WarDance (Chronicles of the Warlands #5)(38)

“Later,” Simus muttered. “And under the bells.”

Joden glanced at him, but thankfully didn’t press. “You missed a good match,” he said. “Osa was challenged by a warrior barely out of the thea camp.” He laughed. “He challenged with sword and shield. Osa chose her whip.”

“And the arrogant pup cowered behind that shield most of the fight?” Simus asked.

“For all of a few breaths,” Joden snickered. “First time he lifted his head to see where she was, she lashed out and caught his forehead. He stood there, blinking through the blood, like a dazed ehat. An easy enough challenge to judge, that is certain.”

Simus tried to laugh at the image, but it sounded forced even to his ears.




It was much later that night and far too soon for Simus when he found himself alone with Joden again. They sat together in his tent, after the dancing had ended and the camp had gone quiet. Joden sat across from him, with a pitcher of hot kavage between them and bells woven into the tent flap ties.

“What troubles you so?” Joden asked, pouring kavage for both of them.

Simus played with the cat brooch between them, the light from the glowing braziers glinting off its shiny black surface.

Joden waited, as patient as always.

Simus heaved a sigh, and told him.

Joden listened, truly listened, until Simus ran out of words and reassurances. The silence seemed to echo around him as he took in Joden’s face. “You’re not surprised,” Simus said, rubbing his thigh, feeling the scar even through the leather.

“Are you?” Joden asked mildly. “I made my decisions in the moment,” he continued. “And they were my honest choices. I would not call them back.” He gestured toward Simus’s thigh. “Any of them. I spoke my truth as I saw them at the time, and admitted my mistakes when I saw the flaw in my truth. But that doesn’t mean there won’t be consequences for me.”

Simus stirred, frowning. “But you were punished for it, back in Xy.”

Joden rolled his eyes. “Being asked to sing of my decision not to grant you mercy is not a true punishment, Simus.”

“But you will sing of it,” Simus pressed.

“I will,” Joden nodded.

“I do not like to think my life has come at a cost to you,” Simus growled feeling the press of guilt. “That you might not become a Singer because—”

“Simus, did Essa refuse to consider me as a candidate for Singer?” Joden asked.

“No,” Simus said slowly.

“Essa is the Eldest Elder Singer,” Joden said. “A candidate for Singer must pass through Trials as the Warlords do. They must let me try,” he continued. “And if I pass through the Trials, then I will face their judgement.” Joden shrugged his shoulders. “It is a challenge, and I will confront it in my time.”

Simus sighed. “Challenges are so much easier when you can swing a sword at them.”

“True enough,” Joden agreed with a heart-felt sigh. “True enough.”





Chapter Fifteen


Some nights later Simus woke when the night-watch whispered his name through the tent flaps. “Warlord, a messenger from Xy.”

Simus rolled out, pulled on trous and boots, and grabbed his sword and dagger. He went out into the main tent to find the watch standing there, a woman warrior in their midst.

“Elois, it is good to see you,” he said as one of them stoked up the coals of a brazier. “Come from Xy?”

“Aye, Warlord,” Elois went to one knee before him then rose when he gestured her up. “I bring word from Warlord Keir of the Cat and the Warprize.”

Elois had the look of one too long alone with only the herds. She stood tall and straight, but her eyes held a bright, dazed sheen. Simus knew that look all too well, as did the watch. It took time to adjust back to normal after days and days in the saddle. They softened their voices and gave her respectful space.

“When did you leave Xy?” Simus asked, trying to determine how much he could ask of her.

“The morning after the night of the pillar of light,” Elois responded.

“You made good time.” Simus was impressed.

“Once I had decent horses,” she said ruefully, swaying slightly. “But I bear truths you must hear, Warlord.”

“Should I waken Joden?” one of the watch asked.

“No, let him sleep,” Simus said. “Give me the meat of it, Elois. I’ll hear the whole tale once you’ve rested and slept.” He could not stop his own eagerness. “How does the Warprize?”

“Well,” Elois’s face lit up. “She has borne twins, and all were well and healthy when I left.”

Simus crowed a soft laugh as the other warriors slapped each other on the back. “Two,” he laughed. “Well, done, Little Healer! Keir and Reness must have burst with pride.”

Elois smiled and nodded, but then the joy drained from her face. “But there is grief as well, Warlord.”

His joy fled in a breath. “Tell me,” Simus demanded.

“Lord Othur, Seneschal and Warder of Xy was slain by one of the Xyian nobles.” Elois drew a shaky breath. “He died speaking peace, with no weapon in his hand, and they killed him for it.”