Simus wove a strip of bells into the tent flap as Snowfall vanished within to prepare their meal. He was confident the bells, and the Tenths outside, would ensure that even Ultie wouldn’t barge in during this nooning.

The tent was cool with the flaps down, the light dim. He wanted to see Snowfall’s face for this discussion, so he went to the platform and stirred the coals of the brazier.

Snowfall came out balancing various bowls, and a platter of flat bread.

Simus eyed the food. “Bring your meal out here too. We’ll talk as we eat together.”

Snowfall hesitated, then nodded, set down the dishes and disappeared again.

Simus settled down on his gurtle pad, feeding the brazier enough fuel so that a flame flickered to life, then settled down to a steady burn.

From outside, he heard voices. The Tenths, talking to someone, and then the faint chime of the bells as someone tested the flap. He smiled to himself as the voices faded away. Essa, by the sound of it.

Snowfall returned, balancing more dishes in her hands and arms and set her additional burdens down before making another trip. Simus arranged the bowls of gurt and dried meat and a platter of flat bread between them as she returned with kavage and mugs. She settled on the gurtle pad opposite. They both removed their weapons, and placed them by their sides, within easy reach.

She held out the water pitcher and bowl for hand-washing and they both went through the ritual silently, murmuring their own private thanks to the elements under their breaths.

Simus dried his hands and reached for the bread.

“I would offer an apology,” Snowfall said, her hands folded in her lap. “I was not able to prepare a warm meal.”

“Eat,” Simus said, pushing the strips of dried meat toward her. “You would not know this,” he continued, “but every challenge need not be met immediately. You may take them at your own pace. Challengers know they may have to wait if the one challenged is seeing to their duties.”

“That makes more sense,” Snowfall said slowly. She broke off a piece of meat and started to chew.

Simus took a moment to watch her as he poured his kavage. Her grey eyes sparkled, but their brilliance was softened in this light. There was a soft scent of sweet honey in the air as well, which Simus was certain came from her warm skin.

Snowfall offered him a bowl of gurt. Simus gave her a half-smile. “I wasn’t sure you would survive the mornings’ challenges,” he said.

“They underestimated my knives and my speed,” she said.

“Unusual blades, those,” Simus nodded toward them.

“I believe they were raided in the far south,” Snowfall said. “Wild Winds received them as tribute, and gifted them to me.”

Simus took a few pebbles of gurt. “They won’t underestimate you this afternoon,” he pointed out. “They have seen you fight.”

Snowfall shrugged. “We shall see,” was her only reply.

“It surprised them,” Simus said. “Surprised me as well. We tend to forget warrior-priests are capable of fighting, since they do not spar with warriors or enter the Trials.”

“We spar with each other,” Snowfall said. “Fellow warrior-priests, none of whom were forgiving or kind. Brutal in their own fashion, or—” She hesitated. “At least, they were.”

There wasn’t much Simus could say to that. For a time, they both just concentrated on the food, lost in their private thoughts. There were voices outside the tent now and again. Simus reminded himself to ask the Tenths who had visited during the nooning.

The silence was comfortable as they ate, until Simus reached for the last bit of bread, and winced.

“That mace hit bruised you badly, didn’t it?” Snowfall asked.

Simus nodded. “Hit harder than I care to admit,” he said. “I have something for it,” he stood and headed toward his sleeping area.

“I’ll get more kavage,” Snowfall said behind him.

Simus returned first, with his ointment, and remained standing as he stripped off his armor and padded tunic. Snowfall walked silently across the room, sat, and poured for him as he removed the wax plug from the jar. “What is that?” she asked.

“A healing ointment,” Simus said as he lifted his arm and looked at the discolored and swollen area. He took some of the cream and rubbed it in carefully, hissing as the cool lotion touched heated skin.

“It looks better than I would expect,” Snowfall looked up from where she sat, studying his body.

Simus couldn’t help but suck in his stomach a bit as he applied more salve. “It does seem to help,” he admitted. “Our new healer seems to know his craft.”

“So it is true that you have a city-dweller in the camp?” Her eyes widened. “I have only ever seen the Sacrifice and his Token-bearer, and they seemed like people. I’d heard that all city-dwellers are so fat they waddle like water-birds. Is that true of yours?”

“You must judge for yourself,” Simus chuckled, then stopped to think. “You saw the fight? The one with the mace?” he asked casually as he stoppered the jar again.

 

 

He surprised her, and caught off guard she blurted the truth. “Yes.”

“You used your powers?” Simus’s eyes were dark and hooded.

“Yes,” Snowfall admitted. “I was hidden in the tall grasses by the Heart.” She looked away. “I wanted to learn all I could before I challenged.”

Simus wiped the remaining lotion off on his chest with his hands. “You can hide yourself?” And at her nod, he frowned. “Show me.”

She obeyed, wrapping a veil around herself.

“Skies,” Simus breathed, his eyes wide and startled. “Are you—” He reached out to touch her, and brushed against her hair.

Snowfall caught her breath as a tingle ran down her neck.

Simus frowned. “I can feel you.”

“I do not vanish into thin air,” she said. “I hide myself from your sight, that is all. I still make noise, breathe, and move as you do.”

“How hard is it to do this?” Simus asked, his eyes narrowing. Snowfall could see him thinking, assessing the benefits and the dangers.

“Before?” Snowfall shrugged. “Even if one could locate enough power, there was a danger in using it, that it would leave you at a most vulnerable time. But now? After the Sacrifice? Power abounds,” she said simply. “But there is still the risk that I would lose my concentration, or have someone touch me as you have. The veil only conceals, it doesn’t protect.”

Simus nodded. He seemed so much bigger, here in the tent, towering over her. Yet he moved with a warrior’s grace as he settled on the gurtle cushion.

He looked up at her. “There is an ehat in the tent with us, and I would take it by the horns.” Simus leaned back and watched her in the firelight. “I have questions, Snowfall, and I would ask for your token. So that there are no misunderstandings between us.”

Snowfall nodded, and handed him her piece of silk. Simus took it carefully, running the cloth between his fingers. “And I would offer my own in return,” Simus nodded toward the stump of wood where his formal token rested.

Snowfall reached over and took it in both hands. The bells chimed as she held the curved bone, smooth under her fingertips.

“So,” Simus asked. “Now we exchange truths with one another. Whose idea was this? To become my Token-bearer?”

“Wild Winds,” Snowfall admitted, and something of her pain must have reflected in her voice. Simus’s face softened as she continued. “And I came to agree with him.”

“Where is Wild Winds?” Simus asked.

“North,” she said. “I do not know where for certain. He indicated that he would keep his people on the Plains unless the danger grew, and then he would retreat into Xy.”

That caught Simus off guard. “For Wild Winds to think he’d be safer with Keir...the threat posed must be greater then I know.”

Snowfall nodded. “The warrior-priests are no longer of one mind. Wild Winds fears for the young. Hail Storm would take them and train them to his advantage, maybe even teach them the blood ways. Those ways distort the soul, and pervert the lives it touches. The elements reject it, and those that practice it. Although—” She hesitated. “There are times when it is practiced for good. When the blood sacrificed is your own.” She hurried on. “It is hard to explain, when you do not have gifts.”

“How do you know I don’t?” Simus asked.

“You were tested,” Snowfall said. “At your Rite of Ascension. All of the Plains are tested, and those with the gifts were taken as warrior-priests. No matter how strong or weak the gift within the person.” She drew a deep breath. “In the past, the young were given no choice. Recently, Wild Winds was giving those with weaker gifts a choice. Your Ouse of the Fox is one such.” Simus raised an eyebrow as she continued on. “Night Clouds follows Wild Winds’s ways. He gave him a choice, and he chose to be a warrior.”

“What powers do you have?” Simus leaned forward. “Healing, as the warrior-priests have always claimed?”

Snowfall shook her head. “Maybe in the past,” she said. “But our ability to heal is limited. Certain plants that help with fever. Dried mushrooms that deaden pain.”

“Purple smoke,” Simus snorted.

“A special mixture of dried grasses and mushrooms,” Snowfall nodded seriously. “It confuses the senses. But the chants, the rites that were used? They seemed to have little effect.” Snowfall hesitated. “That may no longer be the case. Wild Winds was cured of a wasting disease on the night of the Sacrifice. And I was told that the Sacrifice healed his Token-bearer of a broken leg with his power. But how? I cannot say.”

“Cannot say?” Simus’s question was hard and sharp.

“I mean, I do not know,” Snowfall lowered her eyes. “It is harder than I thought to tell these truths to an outsider,”

Simus huffed out a breath. “Joden will want to pry your head open and learn all your secrets.”

“Wild Winds says we no longer have any.” Snowfall lifted her head. “I am to tell all, as you command. Some will believe, he says. Some will not. Either way, truths told will serve us better then secrets have in the past.”

Simus waited, silently. It took her a moment to realize she had not answered his question.

“I am not so powerful as Wild Winds,” she admitted. “I can conceal myself from sight, as I did in the grasses,” Snowfall kept her gaze on his, that he might know she spoke the truth. “I have a gift for using the element of fire, and can use it as a weapon. I can send messages.”

“Messages?” Simus perked up. “And get a response?”

“As if we are talking in the same place,” Snowfall said proudly. “But only if I have a kind of token from that person. Something that links us.” She nodded toward the piece of silk. “That was a gift from Wild Winds.”

“So if Keir had a token—” Simus started.

“And one of us at his side,” Snowfall finished for him. “You could talk to him as if he was in the same room. But there is a risk,” she confessed. “I am exposed when I do that, and the message can be overheard.”

“A warrior-priest at Keir’s side.” Simus snorted. “Maybe when ehats fly.”

“It may be possible, with the power that now resides in the Plains, to send a message without a warrior-priest to receive it,” Snowfall suggested. “But I have not tried, and will not, not without your permission.” She hesitated, not quite sure how to explain the next part.

Simus waited silently.

“There is a new gift,” she said slowly. “One that only appeared to Wild Winds and myself recently. He thinks it is a kind of foreseeing, but...” She let her voice fade away as she thought on her next words.

Simus was still, those dark eyes watching her.

“It is no more than a feeling, of apprehension, that something is coming,” she said. “A looming threat of danger over the horizon.”

“Is it specific?” Simus asked. “To a person? Or an event?”

“No,” Snowfall said, and some of her frustration must have carried through her voice, because Simus’s eyes crinkled in sympathy. “I have tried,” she said. “To probe for more, but there is only this lingering feeling. Wild Winds says that there was a time when those with the gift could see the future. But that knowledge is lost to us.” She shook her head. “The vagueness is not helpful.”

“A warrior heeds every warning,” Simus said. “Even if it’s just a gut feeling.” He took a sip of his kavage. “My warriors are already on alert. But if that feeling becomes more, tell me.” He tilted his head to the side. “How hard will it be, to not use your powers except with my consent?”

Snowfall shook her head. “Not hard. Remember that the power has been scarce, and we were trained to conserve. I have never used it with abandon. I would ask, however—” She hesitated, then plunged on. “I would ask that you lift the restriction upon me if needed for your protection.” Snowfall dropped her eyes. “We—I—have staked much on your success. If you should fall—”

 

 

Simus considered her suggestion, as he considered her.

How far could he trust her? Trust a warrior-priestess? No matter that she had sworn her oaths; oaths had been shattered before, with no formal recession and no warning.

Yet, there was something there. For all that Snowfall held her emotions inside, there was an honesty to her truth.

He’d trust, until his trust was betrayed.

Simus gave her a half-smile and shook his head. “In battle, I would never instruct a warrior not to use any weapon at hand. But this is not a normal battle. You mean well, Snowfall, but the risk is too great. We tread a new path here, and there are those that would use any excuse against you—against me—to deny the change we bring. My restrictions stand.” Simus hesitated. “Do you need to use your powers to receive a message from anyone?”

“No,” Snowfall shook her head. “Only to respond. And I will report to you any message I receive and I will not respond without your permission.”

Simus nodded. “I thank you for these truths, Snowfall.” He returned the piece of silk.

“And I thank you for yours, Warlord.” She rose and returned his token to its place on the tree-stump. She strapped on her knives as he reached for his own weapons.

“You’re in for more challenges,” Simus warned. “I will not reject good candidates.”

“I do not expect you to,” Snowfall said, her hands filled with piled dishes. “This will mean nothing if I do not earn my place. I will clear this, and raise my banner again.”

“And mine as well,” Simus said as he strode toward the tent flap, and began to untie the bells. “But Snowfall, prepare for a large meal tonight, and get extra servers.”

“Warlord?”

Simus grinned at her. “I am calling a senel this night, and I am certain there will be a crowd, for I intend to invite all who wish to hear. I am sure the debate will be hot and thirsty work.”

She nodded and turned away, taking the dishes with her. Simus paused, watching the sway of her hips.

He was glad he hadn’t stopped taking his foalsbane.