The Warlord considered them carefully. “From which thea camp did you emerge?” he asked.
Landers winced, exchanging a quick glance with Ouse. How did he know? “Our thea was Elder Thea Haya of the Tribe of the Snake.”
He watched as Simus and Joden both glanced at each other. “Well, then you are well-trained,” Simus said dryly and Joden snorted as if over a private joke.
“She permitted us to escort the Sacrifice.” Ouse’s words spilled out from him in a rush. “But we were to aid him to reach the border of the Plains and find his way home. We were given no further instructions beyond.”
The Warlord didn’t smile, but the corners of his eyes crinkled a bit, and Lander’s heart lifted.
“So it is in battle,” Simus said, “that sometimes a warrior must think for himself. Still, tradition would have it that your thea would send you to Loual of the Snake, Warlord for many years.” He gave them a stern look. “Why me?”
“Because we have heard of the Warprize,” Ouse blurted out again. “We know you support her and Keir of the Cat. This is where the action will be, and who would not wish to be a part of that? Besides, Lander wishes to be a Singer.”
Lander blushed, wishing the earth would open and swallow his lover. “Ouse,” he hissed, even as Joden gave him a wide smile.
“What?” The Warlord was openly grinning now, his teeth white against his dark skin. “Not for my prowess? Not for my skill or strength or cunning?”
Ouse blinked at him, and Lander closed his eyes in resignation. “That too, Warlord,” he offered, but it sounded weak even to his own ears. “But I do wish to be a Singer, once I have met my obligations as a warrior of the Plains.”
“He’s already started an epic song of the Sacrifice,” Ouse said firmly.
“I’d be happy to hear it, if you wish assistance,” Joden said.
Lander felt a rush of gratitude, and heat to his cheeks. “My thanks,” he managed, without his voice breaking.
“Sit,” Simus commanded, gesturing them to gurtle pads close by. “Tell me this: What do you think of the warrior-priests?”
Lander exchanged a glance with Ouse as they sat. “Truth be told, Warlord, we are uncertain.”
“They pursued the Sacrifice,” Ouse said. “Killed two of our friends, and then took another friend hostage. Ezren, that’s the Sacrifice’s name.” He paused a moment to order his thoughts. “Ezren and his Token-bearer could have kept on, toward their home. Instead they chose to give chase to rescue Gilla of the Snake.”
“But we were met by a warrior-priestess who offered herself as hostage and took us to Wild Winds,” Lander added. “It would seem that the warrior-priests were not all of one mind. Then the Sacrifice occurred, and—” He swallowed, remembering the column of light and the swirling herds of horses around the Heart. “I do not know what to think,” Lander repeated. “But I try to remember that those responsible for what happened are not the warrior-priests that are now with Wild Winds.”
“Well said.” Joden nodded. “You think like a Singer would, and should.”
Lander dared to hope. “You’d take our oaths?” he asked, his eyes locked on the Warlord’s.
“Yes,” came the reply.
Lander’s heart rose in his throat.
“Pull out your swords,” the Warlord commanded. “I will take your oath here and now, conditioned only on my surviving the Trials. Destal and Joden will act as witness to your words.”
“Willingly,” Lander said, with mounting joy, and pulled his sword, taking care not to injure himself in his nervousness. It wouldn’t do to bleed on his Warlord.
The oath passed in a blur, and he found himself stumbling out of the tent, Ouse at his side, as Destal escorted them. He tried to focus on her advice as to the location of their tent, but all he really felt was the heady relief of success. They’d done it; they’d serve Simus, Warlord of the Plains, and who knew where that might lead.
Ouse nudged his arm and they exchanged grins, stumbling after the Token-bearer like two warriors giddy on too much drink.
Chapter Twelve
Simus stepped out of his tent at dawn the next day, dressed in his new armor and ready for battle.
A wide circle of bare earth awaited him, and clustered around were his warriors. Almost all faced him, their faces filled with joy and anticipation. But there were also those with their backs turned, looking out over the Plains, keeping watch.
Simus’s heart swelled and he returned their grins with his own, his face feeling like it might split at any moment.
He strode forward to the edge of the circle, and bellowed to the skies. “HEYLA!”