WarDance (Chronicles of the Warlands #5)(63)

“No,” Joden exclaimed, startled.

“At least you have that much sense,” Essa said. “You would be a Singer?”

“Yes.” Joden sat up straighter.

“And yet you are housed in Simus’s tent, and fed by his people,” Essa scoffed. “If you are to enter the Singer Trials, you must do better, Joden of the Hawk. Gather your gear. You will leave this tent with me, and you will not return.”

Simus exchanged a startled glance with his friend, and then opened his mouth to protest. “Eldest Elder—”

Essa held up a hand to forestall him. “No. Joden, go.”

Joden rose and headed to his sleeping area.

Simus made to speak again, but Essa shook his head and they sat in awkward silence until Joden emerged with his gear and left with one of Essa’s warriors.

“Quartis, escort Joden to my tent. The rest of my warriors will wait outside,” Essa commanded.

Simus watched as they departed, thinking to catch Joden’s eye, wish him well if only with a nod. But his friend kept his head down as he and Quartis left, leaving only himself, Essa, and Snowfall in the tent. The tent flap was closed from the outside, and Simus heard the chiming of bells as it was secured.

Essa spoke. “It’s for the best, Simus. He must walk his own path. Worry more about yours.”

Simus kept still, feeling the loss of his friend. It felt wrong, to have him taken so quickly. But Joden had dreamed of being a Singer for as long as Simus had known him, and he would not stand in his way. Still...

He glanced over his shoulder. “What harm in a simple farewell?”

Essa ignored him. “Snowfall,” he said. “Has there been any message from Wild Winds?”

Snowfall looked at Simus.

Simus scowled at Essa. “None. And if there had been, I’d have sent you word.”

Essa gave an exaggerated sigh. “Not that kind of message.”

“Oh,” Simus said, and looked at Snowfall.

Snowfall dropped her eyes. “I am no longer in Wild Winds service, Eldest Elder.”

“What does that matter?” Essa said.

“I have given my word to my Warlord to not use any gifts without permission.”

“You know about this?” Simus blurted out to Essa. “That she can speak to those far off?”

“Yes, of course,” Essa said. “And the price they pay for it.”

Simus glanced at Snowfall. “The risk you mentioned.”

“As I explained, Warlord,” Snowfall said with an apology in her voice. “There are limits. And risks. Wild Winds warned me not to—”

“But you must,” Essa interrupted. “It is urgent that I speak with him.” Essa took a deep breath, and for the first time Simus saw worry in his eyes. “He must be here in time for the summoning of the Council, or the Council may splinter again. There must be an Eldest Elder of the Warrior-Priests present.”

Snowfall sat silent, her hands in her lap.

Simus considered. “There is sense to your argument, but I am concerned about the risk to Snowfall.”

Essa raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

Simus frowned, thinking it through.

“Well?” Essa demanded impatiently.

Essa was right; Wild Winds needed to attend. “Do it,” Simus commanded. “But if you sense that another hears, then end it. Understood?”

Snowfall’s gaze lifted to his, her grey eyes wide. She nodded. “I need a few things for the casting,” she warned.

“Get them,” Simus said.

“We will wait,” Essa agreed.

Snowfall got to her feet and disappeared within the depths of the command tent.

Essa settled back on his seat with a satisfied sigh.

Simus could not bear to sit still. He rose and started to pace before the platform. “Such a thing,” he said. “Such a thing would have made such a difference. If they had shared this knowledge. If you had shared this knowledge.”

“Remember that power did not flow so freely to them before,” Essa said. “And when have any of us ever shared all of our secrets with the other? Each Tribe, each role, has its secrets.”

“That needs to end,” Simus growled, thinking as he walked. More importantly, Keir needed to know. If others had this power— “I doubt Antas has any knowledge,” Essa said, as if following his thought. “Who would share this with him? All of the warrior-priests are dead. And the few that survived are apprentices and they travel with Wild Winds.”

“They shared this with you,” Simus pointed out.

Essa shifted on his seat. “Eldest Elder Wild Winds shared this with me, when I became Eldest Elder Singer. And he and I were tentmates before he became as he is. As he was.” The older man rubbed his hand over his face, and Simus saw the weariness there. “Accuse us all you wish, Simus. That was then. This is now.”

A soft step and Snowfall appeared from the cooking area with a large flat copper bowl and a pitcher.

“Is that all you need?” Simus asked as she set the bowl on the platform, placing it before Essa. “I was expecting, I don’t know, flames or smoke, or maybe a sacrificed gurtle.”

The corner of Snowfall’s eyes crinkled in amusement for just a moment. “If you wish, Warlord,” she said, all seriousness, “I could go and get an animal.”