Iften’s face was a strange mixture of rage and chagrin. He glanced at Antas, as if for support, but even Antas was offended. As Essa approached, Iften went to one knee, and bowed his head. “I beg forgiveness, Eldest Singer.”

Essa placed the tip of his blade on Iften’s neck. Iften flinched, but made no other move. Satisfied, Essa walked back toward his stool, sheathing his dagger.

“The warrior has a point,” Antas spoke as Essa returned to his place. “Joden should speak now.”

“I agree,” Wild Winds said.

Essa turned. “What say the Elders? Should Joden speak now?”

Everyone remained seated.

“Very well.” Essa returned to his stool. “Joden of the Hawk, you are summoned to speak your truths. Daughter of Xy, please leave the Council tent.”

The last caught me off guard. I opened my mouth to protest, even as Joden spoke. “Elders and Eldest, I would ask that Xylara be permitted to stay. It is right that she hear my truth.”

Essa shrugged, and nodded. I settled back down on my stool. Joden stepped forward and placed himself at the corner of the fire pit, in front of the Eldest, but not so far as to block my view.

Suddenly I was back in the throne room of the Castle of Water’s Fall, seated next to Keir, and watching Joden emerge from the crowd to sing at the mourning ceremony. There’d been a light in his eyes then, a kind of peace deep within. Now he stood, a man who would be haunted forever by the events at Wellspring, where he’d sung for all the dead.

So many dead.

“Speak, Joden of the Hawk,” Essa urged.

“Not before I’ve had my say,” came a voice from behind me.

I looked over my shoulder to see Reness march into the tent. She’d caused a stir, and knew it. She strode between the fire pits to stand at my side.

“Eldest Thea.” Essa was displeased. “Welcome to these discussions. Your absence was noted.”

“I’ve better things to do than sit, swill kavage, and cluck like gurtles,” Reness replied. “Days you’ve been at this, and still no decision? Pah.” She huffed out a breath. “I’ll speak my truth and be gone.”

“About Joden of the Hawk?” Wild Winds asked.

Reness snorted. “No. As to Xylara, Daughter of Xy, and Warprize.”

Antas sprang up. “That is not yet—”

“Fool,” Reness spat.

Antas closed his mouth in a hurry.

“You wish to stop change from coming to the Plains,” Reness said. “Might as well tell the winds to stop blowing.” She shook back her hair. “I’ve spent the last few days listening and learning. Of bloodmoss and fever’s foe. Of joint cream, and a game played on a board. Of the tales told by warriors newly returned, of the healing power of the Xyian woman before you.”

Reness set her hand on my shoulder. “We need her ways, her knowledge and her skills. We’d be stupid to ignore the benefits that she would bring to the People of the Plains. The theas have discussed this, and I speak for all when we say that she is truly a Warprize.”

Her statement was greeted with silence.

She nodded, well satisfied. “I’ve work to be done. Summon me, if you need to see me sit on my stool in her favor.”

She turned then, but paused long enough to drop a whisper. “Eace is well and healing.” With that, she was gone, long strides carrying her out of the tent and away.

A murmur of voices rose as she left the tent, but Essa seemed to take it all in stride. He gave everyone a moment to settle, and then once again turned to Joden. “Speak your truths, Joden of the Hawk.”

He was still standing by the fire pit, the oddest expression on his face, as if he’d seen something long hidden. He jumped slightly, startled when Essa spoke his name, and it took him a moment to acknowledge the summons.

“Elders and Eldest, I thank you for the honor of speaking my truths before you.” Joden took a long breath, and seemed to steady himself. His voice was deep and loud enough to be heard by all. “When I left the Plains this spring with Keir of the Cat, my feet were light and eager. Keir’s intention to change our world and our ways was known, and I welcomed the challenges it would bring. Welcomed, too, the chance to witness and craft songs of what would happen.”

His voice filled with pain. “It is well we do not know what the winds will bring. Had I known . . .”

His voice trailed off, but the tent remained silent. Joden lifted his head to look at the Elders. “I will not speak of what has already been told. Of the deaths due to affliction. Of the loss of Epor of the Badger and Isdra of the Fox. Of the pyres that burned day and night. Of my laments as I sang the dead to the snows.”

I bowed my head, and squeezed my eyes closed against the tears that came.

“Did the dead raise a blade?” Joden’s voice was a growl, full of anger. “Did they die in battle, and go to the snows as warriors? No. They lay in their beds and shivered, no awareness in their eyes, crying out for friends and loved ones, their wits scattered to the winds.” Joden stopped himself, and drew another deep breath. “No, I will not speak of it. Someday, I may sing it. But not today.”

Joden rubbed his face with both hands, to gather himself together. The tent remained silent. I wiped my eyes, and then clasped my hands tight in my lap.

After what seemed like forever, Joden continued. “I have prepared to become a Singer. And I have learned that a true Singer sings the truth. A Singer must not be swayed by friendship or loyalties or the opinions of others. A Singer must sing the truth as he sees it, with his own eyes.” Joden drew a shuddering breath. “But as a Singer must stand against pressures from others, he must also stand from the pressure within. He must not be swayed by his own fears or sorrows.”

Essa gave Joden a half-smile and spoke. “That’s a truth that cuts both ways. And not the easiest to under stand. Or recognize.”

“It is.” Joden’s lips pressed to a thin line as he pointed to Keir. “Keir dares much, and it is said that the skies favor the bold. But I fear that he goes too far too fast. The ‘plague’ has shown me that to combine the Plains and the Xyians is madness.

“Yet,” Joden looked at me now, his gaze steady. “How can I speak against the woman who saved so many, Simus included? Who gave herself over to what she thought would be degradation and abuse, to save her people?” He turned back to face the Elders. “My truth is this. I was torn by my own pain. Never again do I want to tend to so many dead.”

“So how say you now, Joden of the Hawk?” Wild Winds pressed, his voice soft contrast to Joden’s. “What is your truth?”

Joden lifted his head, to look at Iften, and then at Antas. Both men were tense, as if waiting for... something.

But Joden looked away from them and focused on Wild Winds. “I would say this truth. Xylara, daughter of Xy, is a true Warprize of the Plains.”

I straightened in shock. I wasn’t the only one. All around the tent, heads jerked in surprise. Even Keir looked stunned, and Simus . . . Simus just smiled.

Antas was on his feet, his hand on the hilt of his sword. “This is your truth, Joden of the Hawk?”

Joden faced him calmly. “We have forgotten our ways, in our reaction to the change she represents. Acceptance of Xyian ways has nothing to do with her confirmation as Warprize.” He turned to Essa, and lifted a finger. “A Warprize must be discovered during the course of a battle, or on or near a battlefield. A Warprize must render aid to the Warlord or his men.”

Essa pushed out his lips, considering Joden’s words.

Joden continued, his voice ringing in the tent. “A Warprize must be attractive to a Warlord, must spark feelings of desire. The attraction between Warlord and Warprize is as the heat of the sun that shines in the height of summer.”

I sat, my eyes wide, and listened to the very explanation he’d given me in my stilltent, months ago.

“Now, once a Warlord recognizes a potential Warprize, he must negotiate for the Warprize, making the best deal that he can.” Joden turned his head to look at Keir. “Once he has done that, a Warprize must submit willingly to the Warlord, before witnesses of both their peoples. Then a Warprize is displayed to the Warlord’s army. Upon their return to our lands, the confirmation ceremony is held before the Council of Elders.”