“I’ll see to it.” Eloix nodded respectfully to all of them, and lead the warriors off.
Osa leaned forward and tied the bells in her horse’s mane. All four of them drew their horses close, and cast a wary eye on the grasses around them.
“Who knows if the elements-forsaken warrior-priests would even honor the privacy of the bells,” Ultie growled. “They shift like winds, and are not to be trusted.”
Osa shrugged. “I mislike this, but they are the warrior-priests. It is within their rights.”
“You said ‘of the few’?” Simus asked.
Osa nodded, settling back in the saddle as her horse lowered its head to tear at the grass. “The warrior-priests drove us off yesterday at dawn. Ultie and I have ridden the wide circle around, to see who has appeared for the contests. We found fewer than I could wish.”
“Four Warlords for each of the four elements are required,” Ultie growled. “Less than half of that have appeared, and most of them new to the contests. Colts, all of them, and unsteady on their legs.”
“Especially when you ride up and bellow at them like a rutting ehat,” Osa said dryly, then focused on Simus. “But he states the truth. Few warriors have appeared to raise their banners for challenge, and fewer still of the elders of any tribe have gathered.”
“Where are they?” Joden’s frown was deep and worried.
“Made themselves scarce, and there’s wisdom in that,” Ultie said darkly. “With the Council sundered last season, and warrior attacking warrior, who is to know what to expect?”
“The Council was concluded,” Joden said. “Eldest Elder Essa ended the Council after the out-casting, and before the Warprize chose her Warlord.”
“Don’t know what that city-dweller was thinking,” Ultie groused. “I would have been a better choice. What does Keir have over me?”
“You dropped your trous to show her your ‘weapon,’” Osa said. “Little wonder she stomped from your tent and declared the courting at an end.”
Simus kept his face straight, and didn’t dare look at Joden.
“City-dwellers,” Ultie snorted in disgust. “I will never understand them. And Keir thinks we can—”
“Regardless,” Osa cut him off. Her horse lowered its head to graze, the bells chiming in its mane. “Have either of you seen any of the Eldest Elders? Reness? Essa? Wild Winds?”
“Reness left with Keir and the Warprize,” Simus said. “They have returned to Xy for the birth of her child, and Reness thought to attend her. She may have continued on with them to Xy. Of Essa, I have not heard or seen. And Wild Winds—” Simus looked at Joden.
“The warrior-priest who barred our way said that Hail Storm was the Eldest Elder of the Warrior-Priests,” Joden said.
Osa and Ultie exchanged glances. “Not a name I know,” Ultie said grimly. “Not that they share their names.” He looked at all of them. “But I will speak this truth. I have held back the Elders among my warriors. They will not approach the Heart unless I send word.”
Simus frowned. “Why would you—”
“To keep them safe,” Ultie said. “To wait and watch and see what is. To not risk their knowledge and wisdom to the madness that seems to infect us now.” He glowered at Simus. “Has Keir thought of that, eh? If there are not enough Warlords? How will the armies raid, to provide for our people and the thea camps? How will we survive, eh?”
“Liam will come, if needed, although he will wait at the border of Xy.” Simus met Ultie’s glare. “There is time yet, for others to appear and set up the challenge banners for Warlords and Token-bearers and to form the armies.”
“And if they do not?” Ultie said, his horse as agitated as he.
“And if the sun does not rise?” Osa said impatiently. “I can say this much. Antas of the Boar was seen, cloaked and hooded, going into one of the camps of the warrior-priests.”
Simus narrowed his eyes at that news. Antas had been the Eldest Elder of the Warriors, until his betrayal of the Council. He’d tried to have the Warprize slain in the very Council tent. “I wonder what he sought there?” Simus mused.
Ultie just snorted. “Antas would be Keir, if he could.”
“Perhaps he seeks to be WarKing as well,” Osa said mildly.
Simus jerked his head up to stare at her.
“Oh, do not give me that look, Simus.” Osa gave him a sly smile. “He may not have shouted it to the winds, but how else can Keir plan to repair the damage he has caused? He has cut the Council tent to ribbons and only a WarKing can mend the tears.”
“He caused?” Simus asked.