“Gils wasn’t my guard, Cadr. Gils was my apprentice.” I choked a bit on the words.
“Guardian of your knowledge.” Cadr answered quietly.
I reached for the dried leaves as I blinked back my tears. Cadr watched in silence as I packed the arm carefully, pressing it tight to the wound. The familiar moldy smell filled my nose as the plant did its work. As soon as the color changed, I pulled the leaves away to reveal the pink skin beneath it. “Favor the arm for a day, Cadr.”
“I will.” He adjusted his seat as he struggled into his tunic with my help. “Warprize, what Gils told me was interesting, and I’d like to leam more. Not sure I want to give up being a warrior… ”
I looked at him and smiled. “If you want to learn more, that’s fine. Come when you have time, and I’ll be glad to teach you some useful things.”
Cadr nodded, picked up his other bits of armor and turned to leave. But a memory came to me, something Gils had said. “Cadr?”
He turned, with an enquiring look.
“Didn’t Gils tell me that you had a boil?”
He hesitated, then nodded. “I tried to deal with it myself, Warprize. Thought you’d be angry. But it’s back, and bigger, and hurting.”
“Drop your pants, young man.” I moved to get my lances, a sense of quiet joy in my heart. Here was something I could cure. “I’ll explain about boils while we take care of this problem.”
Cadr sighed, and dropped his pants.
After dealing with Cadr’s problem, I returned to the command tent. Keir was still out, but Marcus had promised to have four buckets of hot water waiting, with my soaps laid out for me, and drying cloths. Keir’s people may be comfortable bathing together naked in the river but not me. While a hot bath might be out of the question, using the drain in the privy room to shower myself with warm water was the next best thing. Rafe and Prest took up position by the tent entrance.
Marcus was waiting inside. “Everything is laid out, Warprize. If you need help with the water, call.”
“I will.” I turned and glared at my guards. “No interruptions.”
“Even the Warlord?” Prest asked with a sly grin.
“The Warlord may enter.” Actually, I was hoping the Warlord would enter. I’d not seen him most of the day. “No one else, unless they are ill.”
“As the Warprize commands.” Prest bowed, as Rafe and Marcus chuckled.
Once in the privy, I checked the water temperature, set my bag on a bench and started to undress. I did miss the hot baths under the castle of Water’s Fall. Soaking in their warm depths was a luxury that I had taken for granted. But given the living conditions in this camp, I was grateful for what I had. Remembering the temperature of the water in the lake made me shiver.
I took my time, hoping that Keir might appear. I removed my tunic, combed out my braid, and eased my trous off. As I bent down, it seemed to me that my waist was a bit thicker than I remembered. Of course, Marcus had been feeding me on a regular basis but—
I paused, thinking back. When had I last had my courses?
The last I’d thought of it had been the day when Keir and I had eaten by the lake. I flushed at the memory of our tryst. We’d taken advantage of the sun and the water and the privacy. I’d been due then, and here I was, weeks later, with no sign of them. Admittedly, I’d been sick, which could cause a delay, but still…
Could I be pregnant?
I sat and stared at the tent wall for some time, thinking about it, trying to decide how I felt about the possibility. I
didn’t feel like I was bearing, not that I had any actual experience. But I knew the symptoms as well as any other healer, and I wasn’t feeling anything along those lines. No swelling of the lower limbs, no nausea.
I thought of how Keir had played with little Meara, how the other warriors had treated the babe as gently as any Xyian. The news would bring great joy, but troubles too. The Council of Xy had made demands, conditions on my acceptance of the role of Warprize. I hadn’t talked to Keir about them yet. It wasn’t an issue until I was pregnant and the child was due.
Which was a falsehood on my part. I worried my lip, thinking. How do I tell him what I’d promised? Before I’d seen him with a babe, I’d thought that children meant little to these people. After all, they bore children, they left them to be raised by theas, going off to serve in the army. But then they’d shown that they treasure children much as my people do, maybe even more.
I drew a deep breath in and let it out slowly. I’d tell him when I was with child, not before. Isdra would know, she’d borne before. I could confide in her, but even as I had the thought I knew I wouldn’t. It was too soon, and I had no desire to add to her pain, or worse, give her a false hope. I’d share the news when I was certain, not before.
Time would tell, of course, and I tried to be practical. But for just a moment, as I put my hand over my belly, a vision of a small boy with dark hair and blue eyes, dragging a wooden practice sword, flashed into my mind. He’d look so much like Keir…
In a bemused state, I moved to start my bath.
Of course, I was bending over, rinsing my hair, when I heard someone enter behind me.
“You came too late, my Warlord.” I stood and turned to reach for another bucket of water, a teasing smile on my lips.
It wasn’t Keir.
A man stood there, with wild tangled fur for hair and colored tattoos all over his face and chest. He was glaring at me, holding a long spear, with a human skull tied near the tip.
I shrieked, and heaved the bucket at him.
Chapter 13
The bucket hit his chest and water splashed everywhere, but it didn’t faze the wild man. He raised his spear and shook it at me, snarling and growling like an animal, his unruly hair tossing about his head.
My heart was in my throat, but I wasn’t finished yet. My bag was a step away, and a large jar of boiled skunk cabbage was the first thing my fingers touched. I threw, catching him right on the head. The jar shattered, and the stinking, gooey mess exploded in the man’s face. He roared in pain as it splashed into his eyes.
I darted around him, and ran through the door. My cloak was on the bed, I snatched it up to cover my nakedness, screaming for help. The man was behind me, yelling something that I didn’t pause to hear. I plunged through the meeting room and out the entrance.
Rafe, Prest and Marcus were there, but I only had eyes for Keir, who was running toward us, swords in hand. I ran to meet him, as the crazy man stumbled out of the tent behind me, wiping his eyes and roaring.
Keir placed himself between us, and I took shelter behind him, clutching at the cloak. Everyone was shouting and in an uproar. But Keir’s roar silenced them all. “What is the meaning of this?”
“He came in while I was bathing!” I stayed behind Keir, and wrapped the cloak tight around me. My wet hair was a mess, streaming water down my back, and the ground was cold beneath my bare feet.
“We tried to tell him, Warlord.” Rafe spoke, glaring at the man. “He would not listen.”
Marcus spat on the ground.
There was silence as the wild man stood there, dripping water and stinking of skunk cabbage.
“Why do you violate the privacy of the Warprize, Warrior-Priest?” Keir challenged.
That was a warrior-priest? I peeked out from behind Keir, to stare at the man. He looked no less crazed than he had before. The matted hair was thick, and there was fur braided into it. His tattoos were bright and vivid, colored in green, red, blue, and black. His cloak was a fur of some kind, and his trous looked like it needed a good scrubbing. That skull on the spear did nothing to reassure me.
The man drew himself up, and tried his best to look impressive. Ordinarily, I was sure that it worked, but it is hard to be dignified and awe inspiring when noxious stuff is dripping from your hair. I had to give him credit for trying, though.