WarDance (Chronicles of the Warlands #5)(48)

“Send them in,” Simus instructed.

Snowfall nodded, set the kavage pitcher down at his side, and walked out of the tent.

“That woman is in for one hard day,” Simus mused. “Meanwhile, we have work to attend to.”




Simus approved some handful of challengers, and then left the tent through the back way to oversee the placement of the thea camp with a very cranky Second. Simus was willing to give Yers time to adjust to his decision, but he wasn’t going to tolerate much else. They both concentrated on the duties before them, and when a warrior informed them that Destal had left on a long-range hunt, neither made comment to the other.

All during what was left of the morning, Simus was approached by warriors wishing to challenge for Token-bearer. Except for a few clearly unsuitable candidates, who had no skills to be a Token-bearer, and a few hotheads spoiling for a fight, he granted the requests.

But by the time the sun was almost at its height he was tired, and hungry and curious, so he returned to his tent with two of his Tenths.

Snowfall was facing another opponent, her wicked knives out and flashing, and had him cut before Simus drew close.

“Done,” Quartis the Singer declared. “With Snowfall the winner.”

The loser offered his surrender, and Snowfall took the dagger with a nod. She had quite a nice pile of them at the base of the pole.

“Quartis, have you been judging all morning?” Simus asked. “I thank you for your service.”

“As do I,” Snowfall added softly.

“It was an honor,” Quartis grinned. “And I will return after the nooning to continue, for I wish to see how this song will end.”

“I would offer food—”

“My thanks, Simus, but Haya will gut me if I do not find her and tell her the tale so far,” Quartis said as he headed off toward the thea camp.

“Take down the challenge banners,” Simus ordered, even as another challenger came up to the circle. The warrior looked about to protest, but Simus fixed him with a glare. “She will raise her banner again shortly,” he said. “But first I want my nooning.

“Which I will take privately,” he continued, turning to the Tenths. “Deny me to any who seek me out for this nooning. Let them know I’ll speak with them later. I will send messages when I am ready.”

The Tenths gave him a nod, and settled down on watch.

Snowfall was standing in front of the tent entrance, the banners in her hands.

Simus held open the tent flap. “In,” he ordered.

Snowfall obeyed.





Chapter Nineteen


Simus wove a strip of bells into the tent flap as Snowfall vanished within to prepare their meal. He was confident the bells, and the Tenths outside, would ensure that even Ultie wouldn’t barge in during this nooning.

The tent was cool with the flaps down, the light dim. He wanted to see Snowfall’s face for this discussion, so he went to the platform and stirred the coals of the brazier.

Snowfall came out balancing various bowls, and a platter of flat bread.

Simus eyed the food. “Bring your meal out here too. We’ll talk as we eat together.”

Snowfall hesitated, then nodded, set down the dishes and disappeared again.

Simus settled down on his gurtle pad, feeding the brazier enough fuel so that a flame flickered to life, then settled down to a steady burn.

From outside, he heard voices. The Tenths, talking to someone, and then the faint chime of the bells as someone tested the flap. He smiled to himself as the voices faded away. Essa, by the sound of it.

Snowfall returned, balancing more dishes in her hands and arms and set her additional burdens down before making another trip. Simus arranged the bowls of gurt and dried meat and a platter of flat bread between them as she returned with kavage and mugs. She settled on the gurtle pad opposite. They both removed their weapons, and placed them by their sides, within easy reach.

She held out the water pitcher and bowl for hand-washing and they both went through the ritual silently, murmuring their own private thanks to the elements under their breaths.

Simus dried his hands and reached for the bread.

“I would offer an apology,” Snowfall said, her hands folded in her lap. “I was not able to prepare a warm meal.”

“Eat,” Simus said, pushing the strips of dried meat toward her. “You would not know this,” he continued, “but every challenge need not be met immediately. You may take them at your own pace. Challengers know they may have to wait if the one challenged is seeing to their duties.”

“That makes more sense,” Snowfall said slowly. She broke off a piece of meat and started to chew.

Simus took a moment to watch her as he poured his kavage. Her grey eyes sparkled, but their brilliance was softened in this light. There was a soft scent of sweet honey in the air as well, which Simus was certain came from her warm skin.

Snowfall offered him a bowl of gurt. Simus gave her a half-smile. “I wasn’t sure you would survive the mornings’ challenges,” he said.

“They underestimated my knives and my speed,” she said.

“Unusual blades, those,” Simus nodded toward them.

“I believe they were raided in the far south,” Snowfall said. “Wild Winds received them as tribute, and gifted them to me.”