WarDance (Chronicles of the Warlands #5)(42)
The main camp was soon awash in milling horses and warriors as the supplies were unloaded, the packs carried into tents set aside for storage. Sal, as supply master, took charge of the chaos, standing back to watch with a growing sense of satisfaction as they unloaded new swords, blankets, pots and pans. Simus was especially pleased to see the weapons, and Othur had included the obsidian and shafts for the making of new lances.
And under every pack, each horse had a new saddle, ready to be given to his warriors. More bounty than from a minor raid, and all in good condition.
Sal came to stand next to him as the laden horses continued to stream into camp. “Othur did well by us,” she said.
“He did,” Simus confirmed. He grinned as he watched Pero and Misa admiring the supplies and the new saddles. His new Tenths, sworn to his service. And word would spread to other warriors that Simus of the Hawk provided for his warriors. His grin threatened to split his face.
Sal coughed, bringing him back.
“See to the distribution in the morning, once you have an idea of what we have here,” Simus said, trying to look serious. “Meet the greatest needs first.”
Sal wasn’t fooled, and her smile was just as blinding. “I will, Warlord. But I’ll also set some aside for the others that will swear soon.”
The creak of a wagon wheel warned Simus, and he looked to see one lurching toward him, pulled by two Xyian oxen that looked weary and worn. The man in the wagon looked just as tired, although nothing could disguise that he was a city-dweller. Fat, balding, dressed in Xyian trous and robes in a muted blue, with no weapon in sight. Simus judged him to be at middle-age for a city-dweller. As he walked over, he changed his mind. Not fat, really, just soft around the middle. Pale of skin, like all city-dwellers, and sweating in the afternoon sun. Simus gave the man a smile as he approached. “Greetings,” he said.
Only to receive a blank look in response.
Methla appeared on the other side of the wagon, and gave Simus a look and a shrug. “Warlord Simus,” she said in Xyian. “This is Healer Hanstau of Water’s Fall.”
“Finally,” Hanstau said with a sigh.
“Greetings—” Simus began again, but blinked when Hanstau cut him off.
“I’ve healing supplies that need to be unloaded.” The wagon creaked and groaned as the man struggled to climb down from the wagon seat. “If you will direct me to where I can set up camp and stake my oxen, I’d be much obliged. Some place with an adequate water supply, if you please.”
“You do not speak our tongue?” Simus asked. “Why did Othur send you?”
“Lord Othur.” Hanstau made the correction clear. “Lord Othur called for healers; none answered,” he said grimly. “To run off to the wilds of the Firelands? Anyone would be mad to do so.”
“So, why are you here?” Simus asked.
“Because I was the only one willing to come,” Hanstau pulled out a large white square of cloth and mopped his brow. “Lord Othur and Master Healer Eln made offers such as I could not refuse.” He tucked the cloth away again, and straightened up, staring Simus in the eye. “In exchange for my service for one year, they promised to aid my eldest in setting up his own smithy, as well as a fine apprenticeship for my youngest son as a scribe. My daughters were given positions in the Castle, to serve the Queen and Lady Anna. My late wife would have been pleased and honored to see our children so placed. I considered it my duty.”
Simus glanced at Methla, who refused to meet his gaze. “Well, you have my thanks for your adherence to duty,” Simus said dryly. “I shall have someone escort you, and aid in setting up your camp. Be welcome to the Plains, Hanstau of Xy.”
Simus walked off, and Methla fell into step beside him. “He’s not really that bad, once you get past the pompous stubbornness,” Methla said quite cheerfully. “He knows a few words, like ‘yes’ and ‘no’ and ‘where is the privy?’”
“My joy knows no bounds,” Simus said and caught Yers’s eye. “Our healer has arrived, and speaks nothing but the Xyian tongue. Have Cadr assigned to him. He’ll need aid setting up his camp, and have someone see to his oxen.”
Yers nodded. “Cadr is a good choice. The lad speaks Xyian and has an interest in healing. He can learn from him.”
“Well, also put guards on the man. I fear he’ll not adapt to our ways as quickly as the Warprize, and I want someone watching over him at all times. The elements alone know how much trouble he’ll get into.”
“I’ll see it done,” Yers promised. He smiled. “Best you return to your tent. When word of these supplies spreads, I think more will ask to serve. You’d best be ready to take their oaths.”
“I will,” Simus said, and grinned.
There were few challenges that afternoon, but many warriors with questions, and no few offering their swords. Simus took pleasure in the moment as his ranks filled. Tenths appeared as well, which would ease Yers’s concerns. Destal kept up a steady stream of kavage for all comers.
When the time came to lower his banner, Simus emerged from his tent with a feeling of quiet contentment, only to find a challenger waiting. Destal had followed him out, and made a soft sound of surprise.
This one had waited until late in the day and hadn’t made her presence known. No doubt she’d thought Simus worn and tired. A younger woman, holding her shield in front of her body as if to ward off complaints.