But the Heart of the Plains was a city of tents.

It was huge, to rival Water’s Fall. But instead of marble or stone, there were tents of all shapes and sizes and colors. As the dusk rushed over us, lights began to appear, both inside and outside the tents, making everything glow.

Beyond the tents, I could see an enormous tent, far larger than any that I’d seen before. And beyond that, there was a shimmer, and I realized that it was water, a lake bigger than I’d ever seen.

I stared in amazement. Was there anything small on the Plains?

Before I could take it all in, Keekai was leading the way down off the ridge, and within moments we were within the city. The horses were exhausted, but they trotted with a lighter step, probably aware that their journey was over. We stayed together, and from all over, people turned to look and point at us. It was dizzying, the sights, the smells of cooking, the endless colors and noise. It was so very strange, and yet not that different from the sounds of the market back in Water’s Fall.

Exhausted, I clung to Greatheart, and tried to absorb it all. It seemed to take forever to pass through it all, but we finally came to a stop before the enormous tent that I’d seen in the distance. It was really more like a huge covered pavilion.

Keekai was at my knee, urging me to dismount. “Come, Lara.” She took my elbow, and I tried not to lean on her as I staggered forward, legs not used to walking after so many days in the saddle. We walked together into the huge tent and I stumbled a bit over some steps. The floor of this area was solid stone.

The pavilion was lit brightly with braziers. I blinked at the sight of men and women seated on stools on a three-tiered platform, widest at the top, and narrowing toward the bottom. Three figures were seated at the base, and the one in the middle rose as we approached. He was an older man, dressed in robes of bright red over leather armor, with a multi-colored sash at his waist that held a sword and two daggers. His face was brown as a nut, and deeply wrinkled. There was no welcome there, no smile at all. We stopped, and the man gestured Keekai away from me. I thought for a moment that she would protest, but instead she inclined her head, and went to an empty stool on the second tier, off to the side. I swayed slightly as she moved away, feeling naked and alone.

Iften appeared next to me. Even he showed signs of exhaustion, but he stood tall and proud. “I was chosen as Guardian by Xylara, Daughter of Xy. I have brought her here, safe and sound, to stand before the Council of Elders at the Heart of the Plains.”

The man nodded his head, and spoke. “You have served well, Iften of the Boar, and the Daughter of Xy is now under our protection. You are released from your duties, with our thanks.”

Iften spun on his heel, and glared at me with eyes filled with hate. He paused as he stepped past me. “You and your poisons made it to the Heart. But we of the Plains can learn to use poison, too. Remember that, Xyian.”

I leaned away, conscious of the threat he posed, but he brushed past and left.

“Outlander.” The Elder in the middle faced me, his voice ringing out to everyone’s ears. “You stand before the Council of the Elders of the Plains, to answer the charges that have been brought against you.”

Charges? I wanted to look at Keekai, but couldn’t tear my eyes from the figure in front of me.

“Outlander. You have lied to a warrior of the Plains. You have brought death and affliction to hundreds of our warriors. You have caused the death of a bonded pair, and caused them to die in shame. You have brought the filth of your cities to the Plains. You honor those afflicted by the elements.” He glared, and pointed a wrinkled finger at me. “Worse still, you claim to be able to raise the dead.”

Stunned, I stood there, my mouth hanging open.

“So tell us, Outlander, what do you bring to the Plains, other than lies, affliction and death?”

My fury rose at the Elder’s words. I lashed out, lifting my chin in scorn. “This is not the Council of the Elders,” I spat. “Am I offered cool water to ease my throat? Where is a seat for my weary body, or food for my belly? Not even water to bathe my hands and thank whatever power I choose for a safe journey?” I let my eyes rake over them, making my contempt clear. “Here I stand, in the Heart of the Plains, supposedly before the Council of Elders, and yet where is the courtesy of the Plains that I have come to know and respect? Nowhere that I can see.”

I was trembling, in exhaustion and anger, and knew that in a moment I’d collapse as weak as an hour-old colt. But not here. I turned on my heel and left the tent.

Our horses were gone, there was no one to stop me. Without really seeing, I plunged into a chaos of people and tents, striding as fast as I could, away from the hatred within that tent.

With new strength born of anger, I strode off.

Thankfully, there were wide ways between the various tents. I chose the widest, lost in my fury. Every word spoken by that Elder had been false, or an exaggeration. How dare he say that of me? Of Keir?

I drew a ragged breath, choking and laughing at the same time. Father had always despaired of my temper. Fierce and hot, it would rise to the surface in an instant, unleashing my tongue with an angry retort, only to fade almost as quickly. He tried every way he could think to get me to control it. “Take a deep breath,” he’d urge. “Mind that tongue of yours, and think before you speak.”

Advice I’d never been able to follow.

My feet propelled me down the course at a fast pace, and it was only the laughter of children that brought me back to the world around me.

Off to the side, there was a large tent with a cooking fire in front of it. A few men and women were trying to get a group of small children to settle down before eating, with no success. The children, of all ages, were laughing and giggling in some game only they understood. A young man, no older than Gils had been, was trying to pour water over small grubby hands and getting nowhere for his efforts.

An older woman emerged from the tent and looked about. Suddenly, each child was settled, all with sweet smiles of absolute innocence and hands held out for the ritual.

I had to smile, and with that, some of my anger faded. Instead I was overcome with curiosity. So this was the Heart of the Plains! The home of the dreaded Firelanders.

I strolled now, looking about me, taking it all in. Clearly everyone was preparing for the evening meal, and tents glowed with light from within. There were some outside firepits, burning with coals and surrounded by people, talking and laughing and eating.

How like home it was. And yet, how different. Here there was color everywhere, and no one seemed conscious of rank or position. Men were cooking as well as women, and there were quite a few men taking care of small children.

But it was more than that. There was the tang in the air of grilling meat and spices I didn’t recognize. There were no buildings, no mountains to block the vaulted sky filled with stars above us. The tents seemed to range from tiny shelters to large, sprawling structures cobbled together from many tents.

People were laughing and talking, and there was color everywhere, in the clothing, in the tents, in the banners that hung all over. The clothing ranged from full armor to scraps of cloth or complete lack thereof. All were at ease with their nakedness, from the smallest child to the tough, scrawny old warriors.

Naked or clothed, everyone carried weapons. Even the small children had wooden daggers at their belts.

But even as I looked about, I sensed that I was being watched as well. I knew from experience that to those of the Plains, my lack of weapons made me stand out like a sore thumb.