WarDance (Chronicles of the Warlands #5)(52)

Haya turned her glare on Snowfall, who waited with water for washing. “I know of you,” she growled.

“I stood at Wild Winds’s side. I stood hostage to the Guardians of the Sacrifice.”

“So they said,” Haya sniffed, refusing to give an inch. Simus gestured her and Seo to pads he had set off to the side. They were his guests, but not part of the senel, and Simus hoped Haya could keep her opinions to herself this night.

He spent some time welcoming his leaders and seeing them seated, as well as his guests. Yers returned and Simus gestured him to a place of honor on his right with his current Third, Tsor, on his left. He’d offered to seat Joden on the platform as well, but Joden had declined.

His people mixed in with the Warlord candidates, since by tradition they had no better rank than any other until they were confirmed by the Council. Essa, on the other hand, was Eldest Elder, and he was given pride of place in front. Simus was interested to note that Quartis sat with him as opposed to Haya, but thought no more of it.

Once the crowd was seated, fairly spilling out of the tent, those that would serve went through the ranks, offering water and cloths for hand-washing. The tent quieted as all gave thanks. Essa seemed to be scanning the crowd, as if searching for someone. Simus frowned, wondering, but he’d no time to consider further.

When the last had been seen to, Simus rose. “I welcome you all to my tent. My current Token-bearer, Snowfall, has prepared kavage and food for all this night. Let us eat before we talk. Then I will open the senel to speak of events, hear your views, and announce my decisions.”

Snowfall emerged from the back, leading servers bearing wooden platters filled with roasted venison, flatbread, and ogdan roots. The smell of the meat set Simus’s mouth to watering as he waited for his share.

“I do not hold your token, Simus.” Reht, one of the Warlord candidates, rose from the back. “But as this meeting involves your Token-bearer’s presence in this camp, she should not be here.”

“I take no offense to your truths,” Simus said with a smile. “She has earned her place and I will hold her to her duties.” He took his platter from Snowfall’s hands. “If you fear the food, do not eat. More for us.”

Ultie scooped up his meat with a piece of bread and started eating.

Simus smiled widely and followed his lead. The meat was hot, and its juices ran into the bread as he ate, and drizzled on the roots.

Some paused for a moment, but most started eating. Hard to ignore roast venison; harder still to waste food. It was too difficult to get, and one never knew what the next day’s hunt would bring. Simus finished his platter and took more. Might as well have a full stomach before he took on the storm to follow.

The meal went quickly, and there was fresh kavage all around while Snowfall and those serving collected platters and bowls.

And as the last mug of kavage was re-filled, Zioa marched forward, grabbed Simus’s token, and shook it in his face. “So all your talk of hating the warrior-priests was a lie?”




“Well, I think that went well,” Simus announced, surveying the empty tent, littered with gurtle pads and mugs.

Snowfall and Joden stood and stared at him.

“As well as could be expected,” Simus amended.

“Except for the shouting,” Joden said.

“Well, there is that,” Simus agreed.

“Except for the fact that everyone seems to think that you have brought a viper into your tent,” Snowfall said. “Or that I have betrayed all that the Plains stands for by giving you my oaths.”

“Well, that is true,” Simus said cheerfully. “Did you see Wyrik of the Boar’s face? I thought he’d have a brain storm. Too bad he didn’t.” Simus frowned. “I wonder if that healer can treat those?”

“Simus.” Joden rubbed his face with one hand. “I don’t think you are taking this seriously.”

“You thought this would be easy?” Simus grew serious. “You thought everyone would smile and nod and welcome this?” He shook his head. “No. As Keir has said, we are weaving new patterns.” Simus flashed them a grin. “Patterns he doesn’t even know of yet. This will not be easy. My token will most likely wear out before I am even recognized as Warlord.” He looked at the poor, bedraggled thing, its feathers slightly worse for wear.

“I need more kavage,” Joden said, taking up his mug.

Snowfall nodded, and slipped from the area.

“What other choice is there?” Simus lowered his voice. “Keir’s plan was to break their hold on our people, and then unite the Plains under a WarKing to find a better way.” He gestured toward where they could hear the clatter of kavage pots. “They have broken themselves. So now it seems to me, my choice is to ignore the outstreched hand, or reach out and take it.”

“I think that Keir would reject that hand,” Joden said carefully.

Simus slowly nodded his head in agreement. “You are probably right.” He looked at his friend. “Do you think I am wrong?” he asked, almost dreading the answer.

Joden drew in a heavy sigh. “Maybe,” he said, then countered with, “What do you think Keir will do when Eloix arrives with your message?”

“I do not know,” Simus said.

“Have you thought of sending another in light of all this?” Joden asked.