Snowfall waited until all were seated, then moved to stand before the wooden platform where Simus sat, and lifted his token high. “Rise and hail Simus of the Hawk, Warlord of the Tribes.”
All the warriors rose, and heads were bowed.
Simus smiled at them all as Snowfall placed his token before him on the platform. “My thanks, warriors. Please be seated. I have called this senel to discuss our status and preparations and avoid having to stomp through the rain to ask the things I must know.”
Laughter filled the tent, with nods of agreement all around.
“So let us start with our status. Yers, what say you?” Simus asked.
“The Tenths have organized well, and I am satisfied with their numbers and placement of warriors under their command,” Yers began. “While recruitment has slowed, the numbers are more than we had planned.”
Simus listened well as Yers spoke. He’d noted the slowing of new warriors pledging their swords over the last few days, but that was normal. Warriors were making their final choices. The Trials were fast approaching their end.
“Our supplies are good,” Sal said. “The Xyian caravan filled any gaps. We’ll use this day for making arrows and lances. We’ll fill all the quivers we have, and stockpile more. We also found strips of bells and cymbals buried deep in one of the last packs. Whose idea was that?”
“Mine,” Simus laughed. “For the dancing. If the rain clears, we’ll make such a noise tonight as to set the other camps as jealous as the winds.”
“In truth, Warlord, the army is ready,” Yers said. “All waits on your confirmation.”
“To the news then,” Simus said with a nod. “How go the other challenges?”
“Osa and Ultie are firmly in place,” Tsor told him.
“No surprise there,” Simus said.
“Zioa was knocked out of the running by Wyrik,” Tsor added.
“We might be able to recruit her,” Yers said. “If we offered her a Tenth position.”
“Once her temper cools,” Sal said wryly.
A stir at the back of the tent, and Haya and Seo walked in. Snowfall greeted them, gesturing toward the front of the tent.
“What of Nires of the Boar?” Simus asked.
“Still a candidate for Warlord,” Yers said firmly. “As are Ietha and Loual. I have been talking to Rhet, but she will not commit one way or the other.” Yers shrugged. “I think she thinks that the issue need not be dealt with here, but in the Council held after the Season of War.”
Haya and Seo wove their way through the group to seat themselves beside Joden.
“So Eldest Elder Essa may be close to the calling of the Council,” Simus said.
“If one can be formed,” Haya spoke up. She took a mug of kavage from Snowfall with a nod of thanks. Seo settled in beside her on a gurtle pad, and accepted his own mug.
“Elder Haya, Weaponsmaster Seo, welcome to the senel,” Simus said. “I hear you are learning from Healer Hanstau.”
“That man spoils children rotten. All soft and kind words over every scrape and cut,” Haya grumbled. “Still, he has skills we do not have, and I would learn them.” She rolled her eyes. “Would that he learned our language as quickly as the Warprize.”
“I’d ask a question about that,” Yers said. “Should we consider sending another messenger to Keir? Perhaps—”
Another commotion at the tent flap. Simus looked to see that Snowfall was talking to someone outside in low tones.
“Snowfall?” he called out.
Snowfall turned, and it seemed her eyes were just a bit wider than normal. “Warlord,
Eldest Elder Essa demands to speak to you.”
Chapter Twenty-Five