Essa’s face was a mask of calm, but Simus could see a wildness in his eyes. Essa held the brooch in one hand, the other resting on the hilt of his sword.

The other Singers, clearly Essa’s guards, also had their hands on the hilts of their swords.

“No,” Simus said quickly and firmly, keeping his face still, hiding his shock. Now was not the time to mock this man.

“Hunting us like ehats, attacking both night and day, destroying my tents and supplies, killing my people?” Essa’s voice cracked, but he brought it back under control.

“No,” Simus said. “And if you wish, I will repeat my words for the open skies to see and hear.”

“Told you,” Ultie said to Essa.

Essa stared at Simus hard, but Simus met his glare and didn’t drop his gaze until Essa looked away.

“Well, someone is,” he said. “Someone has.” He ran his free hand over his face. “What was Reness thinking to wander off to Xy? And where is Wild Winds? And what in the name of all the elements was that shaft of light? Ultie says that you witnessed that night and spoke with Wild Winds. Where is he?”

“I don’t know,” Simus said.

“What did he say?” Essa demanded.

“I will tell you all I know,” Simus said. “Although Joden would tell it better.”

“Why in the name of the elements would I trust Joden?” Essa spat.

“What?” Simus demanded, startled.

“I am not sure I trust any of the Plains at the moment, except those of my tents,” Essa continued. “I came to Ultie because—”

“Because if I wanted you dead, you would be,” Ultie rumbled. “And since you aren’t, I don’t.”

Essa choked out a laugh. “The only certainty left in an uncertain world.”

“Sit,” Ultie commanded, gesturing to the gurtle pads. “We need kavage and food for this talk, and bells on the flaps. Faela, see to the bells, then see to our meal. Essa, return Simus’s token. You will eat, yes? And then we will listen as you speak of what has happened to you.”

Simus settled on the gurtle pad Ultie indicated, arranging his sword and dagger beside him. The other warriors sat as well, except Essa. The man was clearly agitated and started to pace back and forth as Faela wove a strip of bells into the tent flaps.

Ultie himself passed the water and cloths for hand-washing. “Faela has enough to see to, and I want no more warriors within.”

Simus nodded his understanding, and whispered a prayer to the elements as he washed. They all did, except Essa, who continued to move around the tent, muttering under his breath until they all had completed the ritual. Then he spun on his heel and glared at Simus.

“Never, in all my years as Eldest Elder have I been assaulted,” Essa growled, his anger clear in every gesture. “I usually winter in the lodge closest to the Heart,” he continued. “But there was a—” Essa hesitated. “A Singer that I wished to speak to, about the events of the last Council. So I went south, and when the snows grew deep, we took to a lodge and wintered there.”

He continued to pace as he talked, his scabbard swinging on his hip, threatening everyone’s heads. Faela dodged around him as she served spiced gurtle meat, flat bread and roasted ogdan roots. Simus’s stomach rumbled.

Ultie gestured for the others to start eating. Simus reached for bread and meat.

“When we emerged, I conducted the Rites of Ascension for a few of the thea camps, as was normal. But the warrior-priests conducting those rites with me acted strangely.” Essa still held Simus’s cat brooch in the hand he was waving about. Faela ducked under his arms with the kavage pitcher and mugs. “I should have listened to my instincts, for they were telling me something was wrong. Perhaps Adaya would still live if I’d—”

Essa’s warriors were shaking their heads, and one spoke. “There is no way to know that, Eldest Elder. And no one blames you but yourself.”

Ultie rolled his eyes and gave Faela a nod. She stepped into Essa’s path with a mug of kavage and waited.

Essa stopped, sighed, and took the mug.

Simus helped himself to more of the spicy gurtle and roots.

“We were attacked.” Essa stood there, staring at the kavage. “It was clear they wanted me captured and my warriors dead. We managed to break free, but more warriors appeared and harried us. I lost warriors and gear to them as they would appear out of nowhere—” He took a swig of kavage, and cleared his throat. “Then one night a warrior-priest appeared with warriors and attacked me with foul power, freezing me in place so that I could not so much as move. My warriors fought, and fought well, but the only thing that saved us was a bolt of light piercing the night sky. The warrior-priest fell to his knees, screaming, and suddenly I could move and breathe and I killed him.”

“Well done,” Simus said.

Essa stopped there, looking at him as if seeing him for the first time. “After, I noticed his tattoos were gone, as if ripped from his body. What do you know of that?”

“Sit,” Simus said. “Even if you did not hold my token, I would share what I know.”

“Hard to listen, much less think when you are stomping around like that,” Ultie muttered around a mouthful of bread.

Essa huffed, but settled on a gurtle pad. He balanced Simus’s brooch on his knee, and held his kavage mug in both hands.

Simus cleared his throat. “For me it started when a warrior-priest popped up from the grass and forbade us to approach.” He continued, going through the events of that day and into the night.

One of the warriors closest to Essa nudged his arm, and offered bread and meat. Essa’s eyes never left Simus’s face, but he took a piece of the flat bread and nibbled at it. Yet as Simus’s story progressed, the bread was abandoned as Essa listened in grim silence.

“And Wild Winds disappeared?” Essa demanded at the conclusion of Simus’s tale.

“I awoke to find him and his people gone, and angry Warlord candidates gathered outside my tent demanding explanations.” Simus glanced at Ultie.

Essa closed his eyes and rubbed the corner of his eye. “What in the name of the elements does this mean?”

“Nothing,” Ultie said. “We are gathering for the Trials as we always have and always will.”

“Nothing?” Essa gave the man a hard look. “Ultie, the Council was sundered and now the warrior-priests are—”

“You have trusted Wild Winds in the past,” Ultie said. “Trust him now.”

Essa sighed, shaking his head, but remained silent, giving Simus his chance. He leaned forward, intent to know the answer to the question that had nagged at him since this strange meal began. “Why do you not trust Joden?”

Essa shrugged at Simus’s question. “Joden supported Antas against the Warprize until he changed his mind. If he were to become Singer, what is to prevent them from killing me and making Joden Eldest Elder, with Antas’s backing?”

“No,” Simus shook his head. “Joden opposed the Warprize when he faced the devastation that was the ‘plague’. Antas used Joden’s doubts to support his own claims.”

Essa raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps. But Joden’s acknowledgment of the Warprize came at a convenient time, didn’t it? When Antas seemed to have gone too far?”

“You twist his actions—” Simus replied hotly.

“All I know,” Essa overrode him, “is that Joden was all you say before he followed Keir of the Cat to Xy. But since that time, he has broken with our ways, and his truth seems—”

“You hold my token, Eldest Elder Singer.” Simus glared at the man. “But I will not sit and listen to you insult Joden of the Hawk.”

“I will share these same truths with him, face to face,” Essa said calmly. “For he will approach me to become Singer, will he not?”

“Of course he will,” Simus said. “All who know him know his intent.”

“Even I know it,” Ultie muttered.

“Joden of the Hawk is an honorable warrior,” Simus continued. “He is not treacherous. He would not—”

“If you had told me that Antas would attack the Council, I would have laughed and called you fool,” Essa said. “This wind of change you would bring blows the seeds of our destruction as a people.”

Simus would have protested, but Ultie raised a hand and stopped his words. “Essa, who do you think sent warriors and warrior-priests after you?” Ultie asked.

“I have no proof,” Essa said, shrugging. “But Antas seems likely.”

“I doubt that Antas will appear here,” Ultie said. “Too many hold his actions against him. You are here now. You can call the Council of Elders together. Reness will arrive at the last moment; she always does. Nires is here, who was named Eldest Elder Warrior to replace Antas.”

“That was a temporary measure for the Outcasting.” Essa frowned. “And that needs doing as well. It’s the warriors gathered that will name the next Eldest Elder Warrior.” He sighed. “It’s complicated.”

“No,” Ultie said. “It’s simple. You will shelter here with me for a time, regain your strength. You will sing at the dances, and replenish your gear. You will gather the Singers and would-be Singers to you, and then you will sort things out.”

Essa gave him an exasperated look. “Ultie, it’s not that easy.”

“Yes, it is.” Ultie reached over and plucked the brooch off Essa’s knee and tossed it to Simus. “We thank you for your truths.”

A clear and simple dismissal.

 

 

The spicy gurtle meat didn’t sit easy as Simus made his way back toward his camp.

The sun was lower now, the camps finishing their challenges and meals, and preparing the night’s dancing. The scents of fry bread and kavage floated on the air, along with various bits of talk. Simus ignored it all as he strode along, thinking on Essa’s words. Dreading having to tell Joden of this talk.

And as if he’d heard Simus’s thought, Joden appeared beside him as he walked, matching him step-for-step, his broad face smiling. “You look as if you are planning a battle. Why so grim?”

“Later,” Simus muttered. “And under the bells.”

Joden glanced at him, but thankfully didn’t press. “You missed a good match,” he said. “Osa was challenged by a warrior barely out of the thea camp.” He laughed. “He challenged with sword and shield. Osa chose her whip.”

“And the arrogant pup cowered behind that shield most of the fight?” Simus asked.

“For all of a few breaths,” Joden snickered. “First time he lifted his head to see where she was, she lashed out and caught his forehead. He stood there, blinking through the blood, like a dazed ehat. An easy enough challenge to judge, that is certain.”

Simus tried to laugh at the image, but it sounded forced even to his ears.

 

 

It was much later that night and far too soon for Simus when he found himself alone with Joden again. They sat together in his tent, after the dancing had ended and the camp had gone quiet. Joden sat across from him, with a pitcher of hot kavage between them and bells woven into the tent flap ties.

“What troubles you so?” Joden asked, pouring kavage for both of them.

Simus played with the cat brooch between them, the light from the glowing braziers glinting off its shiny black surface.

Joden waited, as patient as always.

Simus heaved a sigh, and told him.

Joden listened, truly listened, until Simus ran out of words and reassurances. The silence seemed to echo around him as he took in Joden’s face. “You’re not surprised,” Simus said, rubbing his thigh, feeling the scar even through the leather.

“Are you?” Joden asked mildly. “I made my decisions in the moment,” he continued. “And they were my honest choices. I would not call them back.” He gestured toward Simus’s thigh. “Any of them. I spoke my truth as I saw them at the time, and admitted my mistakes when I saw the flaw in my truth. But that doesn’t mean there won’t be consequences for me.”

Simus stirred, frowning. “But you were punished for it, back in Xy.”

Joden rolled his eyes. “Being asked to sing of my decision not to grant you mercy is not a true punishment, Simus.”

“But you will sing of it,” Simus pressed.

“I will,” Joden nodded.

“I do not like to think my life has come at a cost to you,” Simus growled feeling the press of guilt. “That you might not become a Singer because—”

“Simus, did Essa refuse to consider me as a candidate for Singer?” Joden asked.

“No,” Simus said slowly.

“Essa is the Eldest Elder Singer,” Joden said. “A candidate for Singer must pass through Trials as the Warlords do. They must let me try,” he continued. “And if I pass through the Trials, then I will face their judgement.” Joden shrugged his shoulders. “It is a challenge, and I will confront it in my time.”

Simus sighed. “Challenges are so much easier when you can swing a sword at them.”

“True enough,” Joden agreed with a heart-felt sigh. “True enough.”