WarDance (Chronicles of the Warlands #5)(51)

“No,” Snowfall shook her head. “Only to respond. And I will report to you any message I receive and I will not respond without your permission.”

Simus nodded. “I thank you for these truths, Snowfall.” He returned the piece of silk.

“And I thank you for yours, Warlord.” She rose and returned his token to its place on the tree-stump. She strapped on her knives as he reached for his own weapons.

“You’re in for more challenges,” Simus warned. “I will not reject good candidates.”

“I do not expect you to,” Snowfall said, her hands filled with piled dishes. “This will mean nothing if I do not earn my place. I will clear this, and raise my banner again.”

“And mine as well,” Simus said as he strode toward the tent flap, and began to untie the bells. “But Snowfall, prepare for a large meal tonight, and get extra servers.”

“Warlord?”

Simus grinned at her. “I am calling a senel this night, and I am certain there will be a crowd, for I intend to invite all who wish to hear. I am sure the debate will be hot and thirsty work.”

She nodded and turned away, taking the dishes with her. Simus paused, watching the sway of her hips.

He was glad he hadn’t stopped taking his foalsbane.





Chapter Twenty


Simus announced the senel for sunset and had Yers send messengers through the camp, so that all of his people knew of the meeting. From his Second through to all his Tenths, he made it known that they were invited. And he sent messengers running to Essa and every Warlord candidate that he knew, and even some who were only names to him. If Wild Winds thought that ‘truths told were better than secrets kept,’ he could only agree.

The afternoon hours passed slowly, for he isolated himself within his tent, re-wrapping the hilts of all of his weapons, listening to the sounds of battle outside the tent as Snowfall and Yers met their challengers and saw to their duties.

At one point, Elois entered his tent, looking rested and ready for combat. She knelt before him, offered her sword, and then surprised him with a question. “Warlord, I ask permission to contest for Token-bearer.”

“Granted,” Simus said, then grinned. “Snowfall seems to be in fine fettle today, though. So far she has taken down all comers.”

Elois didn’t return his smile. “She’s good,” she agreed. “But I am better. However, I will challenge in my own time.”

Simus shrugged as she slipped out of the tent. The timing was her choice, so long as it was before the Trials ended.

He’d half hoped for a challenge to himself, for nothing would break the boredom like a good fight, but none were forthcoming. Given that his last challenge had been to the death, it might have discouraged the faint of heart. So Simus sighed and sat within his tent, and brooded.

Majestically, of course.

At one point, he’d run out of weapons to re-wrap, and emerged to take a few swords off his weapons rack. Yers was nowhere to be seen, but Snowfall was seated under the challenge pole, twisting her silk between her fingers.

“It’s quiet,” he said to her.

There was an odd glint in her eye as she tilted her head toward the Heart.

Simus frowned, but didn’t react otherwise. He stepped to the weapons rack, picked up a sword, and pretended to test the blade as he looked out over the grasses.

A shiver of movement gave them away, the grass moving with no wind. Another shiver and he caught a glimpse of a rump held a bit too high and the sound of a frantic whisper. Children, it had to be, crawling and hiding to sneak a peek. Maybe to even get to see a challenge.

Simus dropped his gaze, and stifled a laugh. It wouldn’t do to mock them. Still, they were not supposed to be anywhere near the challenge circle.

Snowfall stood and stretched, yawning as she turned and faced the area where the watchers were hidden. She pulled her knives, glared at the area and said a sharp, “Hey.”

Shrieks erupted as six children leaped high and ran off with their wooden weapons, screeching in their excitement. Pive was one of them; Simus was glad to see that she had acquired a new wooden sword and dagger.

The children disappeared behind his tent, leaving silence in their wake. Snowfall turned back, her eyes sparkling, and the corner of her mouth slightly curved up.

“Is that a smile?” Simus asked.

The curve disappeared in an instant. “Warrior-priestesses do not smile.” Snowfall resumed her seat. “Everyone knows that.”

Simus disappeared back to his own tent, and focused on his work. But he couldn’t help but wonder what she’d look like if she smiled.




As the sun set Simus stepped outside to lower his banner. There stood a straight-faced, victorious Snowfall and a sullen Yers. Both had survived the challenges of that day. Simus made no comment as the banners were lowered.

Yers strode off toward his tent as soon as the banners were down for the night. Snowfall darted into the tent the instant her banner was down, to start issuing instructions and commands to her servers just like a Warlord. The sides of the tent were rolled up, and lamps and braziers lit and stoked, for company was sure to arrive.

Haya was the first. “She will murder you in your sleep,” she announced, her hands on her hips.

“If she does, I don’t deserve to be Warlord,” Simus said calmly.