Simus awoke to the first chirps of the grass birds. A slight breeze was playing with the sides of the tent, bringing with it the scent of promised rain. His camp was just starting to stir as the night watch prepared for dawn.

He stretched under the blankets, and grinned in delight. His camp. His army. Considering how this season has started, it was coming to a satisfactory close.

Provided of course, everything went according to plan.

His grin faded as he gave a groan at that thought. After all, he knew well the truth of, ‘If you wish to hear the winds laugh, tell them your plans.’

There was a scratching at the flap to his sleeping area.

“Come,” he said.

Snowfall entered, gracefully carrying a tray with kavage. “Good morning, Warlord.”

She stood, holding the tray, in her leather trous and corselet. A sheen of rain covered the tattoos that capped her strong shoulders, and the droplets also gleamed in her hair. Her face was neutral.

“Morning.” Simus sat up, feeling the bruising in his ribs all the more this morning. He groaned, throwing back the blankets and sitting cross-legged on his bed. He reached up and stretched.

Snowfall was giving him a critical look. “The bruising seems less,” she said. “You should use more of that ointment.”

Simus lowered his arms and gave her a bright, hopeful look. She’d declined to share before but this was a new day. “Perhaps you could rub it on for me?”

To Simus’s disappointment, Snowfall didn’t even blink. Didn’t even raise one of those delicate eyebrows. “No. Here’s kavage for now,” she said calmly.

Simus admired the movement of her lovely hips as she knelt to place the tray next to him. She rose just as smoothly, displaying the long length of her legs. “I will have your meal ready shortly.”

“Send word to Yers that I would hold a senel as soon as I have eaten,” Simus said with a sigh. “Ask Joden to join us as well.” He reached for the kavage. “Do not raise the challenge banners this morning.”

Snowfall bowed her head. “As you wish, Warlord.”

With that, she was gone.

Simus deflated slightly with another sigh, then reached for the pitcher. She hadn’t seemed interested.

On the other hand, she hadn’t seemed un-interested. Simus’s grin returned. He’d take his victories where he may.

He stood, twisting and stretching, warming stiff muscles. It was odd, how comfortable her presence was within his tent. Snowfall was...restful. A quiet strength beside him.

She’d maintained his tent, showed in visitors, and met every challenge offered to her blades. Even Yers, as wary as he was, offered her respect. But those grey eyes revealed nothing in a face that was forever calm and serene.

Yet she also didn’t let him get away with anything. She never laughed at Simus’s asides or wild statements. Never rolled her eyes. Her face was always serene and cool.

It was annoying. Fascinating. Enticing.

He thought on that as he finished his kavage, and reached for his armor and weapons.

“Don’t forget the ointment,” Snowfall called from the main tent.

See? She cared. Simus grinned to himself, put down his padded tunic, and rummaged for the jar.

As he attended to his side, he thought on Snowfall. The mystery behind her eyes. It must take a great deal of work to control herself like that. To keep her face smooth and unresponsive, not cracking the slightest smile. A lot of control.

What would it take, he thought, to cause her to lose her mask? To see her smile, or laugh, or watch those eyes spark in rage. Or melt into pleasure at the touch of his hands?

A goal, Simus resolved as he strapped on his sword and dagger. Something to think on as he went through his day. Something to work on.

It was good to have goals.

 

 

It occurred to Snowfall that in one thing, Warlords and warrior-priests did not differ. At least, in the males.

She’d declined his offer of sharing with regret. He was a fine-looking man, well formed in all ways, and she had to suppress a certain curiosity as to his other...skills.

But there would be complications, with the other warriors if no one else. But also the magic. What if it flared as they shared their bodies? Her tattoos were already expressing some of her emotions. What if they responded in ways she couldn’t control? No, that was not worth the risk of satisfying her...curiosity. Even if his offer had heated her body. This was not the time or the place.

Still, her refusal had taken him back. That pleased her. Not that she would display that pleasure, one way or another.

What pleased her more was his acceptance after his initial shock. He accepted it. Oh, he pouted a bit, not that he would think of it as such. But still, she doubted few declined his offer of bedding as she had.

But while her Warlord’s mood was a good one, it seemed the Plains were of a different opinion. The wind was cold and biting, setting the leather tent sides to moving back and forth. The damp crept into the corner of every tent and every bone in a warrior’s body. No need to keep the challenge banners down; every warrior in camp not on duty was within a tent, seeing to tasks done well out of the rain and cold.

Snowfall sent out the messages as commanded while Simus ate.

She set the braziers burning in the command tent, and made the kavage strong and hot. She greeted his Second and Third with steaming mugs as they entered and shed their dripping cloaks. All of them accepted the mugs gratefully, even Yers. As others entered behind them, she greeted them as well.

And when all was in readiness, she ignored the stares and the side-ways glances, took up her Warlord’s token, and waited for him to call the senel to order.

 

 

Simus was amused to see that Ouse and Lander were aiding Snowfall with the serving at the senel. Trust the young ones to try to be present when decisions were to be made.

Simus seated himself and then leaned over to Yers, seated to his left. “There’s a few missing yet, I see.”

Yers nodded, interrupting his sip of kavage. “It might take them a few minutes,” he explained. “Sal wanted to make sure that the Xyian supplies were well covered against the damp. And that Xyian healer was having some trouble with a leak in what he calls a ‘still tent’. Made quite the fuss.”

“How is Healer Hanstau?” Simus asked. “I have not seen much of him the last few days.”

“Because Haya claimed him,” Joden spoke up, approaching to take a seat off to the side, mug in hand. “She’s been having him help with the children, and demanding he explain his healing secrets to her.” Joden sat down. “Which is fairly amusing, since his command of our language is not strong, and Haya speaks no Xyian. Cadr has been kept busy, trying to explain one to the other.”

Simus chuckled, but looked at his friend with a careful eye. Something was off, something he’d not noticed before. He wasn’t sure what was wrong, but something troubled Joden. Perhaps he’d approached Essa to become Singer? Simus caught Joden’s eye, and raised an eyebrow.

Joden shrugged, and dropped his gaze to his kavage.

Well, whatever it was, it would have to wait until after the senel. The last of his staff had entered, and were doffing their cloaks. Simus caught Snowfall’s eye and gave her the nod.

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.”