I stepped in and blinked in surprise. The tent was filled with things, far more items than I’d ever seen in a Firelander tent before. It was a tent as large as Keir’s but it was packed to the top. Weapons, armor, shields, fabrics, pillows, trunks that seemed to contain all kinds of trinkets and bowls. It reminded me of my Great Aunt Xydella, who could never throw anything away. There was barely room to move about, much less for company.

Essa was reclining on a platform, surrounded by pillows. On a stool close by, sat Wild Winds. They both stiffened when Keir entered behind me. “I asked for the Warprize,” Essa snapped.

“You get both of us,” Keir growled. “Or no one.”

Wild Winds said nothing. I stepped forward, taking my satchel strap off over my head. “I am here, Eldest Singer. How can I help you?”

Essa and Wild Winds exchanged quick glances, then Essa licked his lips. “I would ask for a healing, Warprize. The use of your skills on an injury.”

I nodded. “Of course. I’m more than willing to help you.”

Essa cleared his throat. “I would ask for this healing under the bells.”

I raised an eyebrow, and exchanged a glance with Keir. He was frowning, but said nothing, so I nodded. “That is the Xyian way.”

“I would ask that Wild Winds watch your healing,” Essa continued.

Before I could answer, Keir chimed in. “You die first.”

“Keir,” I broke in, trying to ease tensions, but Keir was having none of it.

“I’m not letting you out of my sight or reach.” Keir crossed his arms over his chest.

Wild Winds stood, slowly. “I will protect the Warprize with my life.” We both looked at him, shocked. He shook his staff so that the skulls tied there rattled. “I may not accept her ways, but she is a Warprize of the Plains, as confirmed by the Council of Elders.” He leaned a bit, using the staff with both hands for support. “I will take the oaths during the ceremony, and I will see that no harm comes to her.”

Essa spoke then. “This does not mean he supports you. You understand? But I told him that I intended to ask for aid, and he asked to watch. I agreed.” Essa shifted on the pillows. “Will you allow this, Keir of the Cat?”

Keir’s face was bland, but I could see the storm in his eyes. After a long moment, he turned to me. “Lara?”

“My oaths require that I treat any that ask it of me,” I responded. “You are my Warlord, Keir of the Cat. I respect that you are concerned for my safety. Please respect my oaths in return. Besides,” I smiled at him, “it’s a tent. If I so much as breathe hard, you will slash your way to my side.”

He gave me a look then, an unhappy look, to be sure. But I raised my eyebrows at him, and the corners of his eyes crinkled. “Very well. As my Warprize requests.”

Essa struggled to his feet. “Please refrain from slashing your way through my tent, Warlord.” He walked toward what must be his sleeping area. “This way, Warprize.”

I picked up my satchel, and followed, with Wild Winds bringing up the rear. We went into a sleeping area that was as large as Keir’s, if not larger. This area, too, was crammed with more items, odd looking drums, leather hangings, trunks with clothing spilling out. I wondered how he managed to have all these things and still wander the Plains?

Essa sank down on to the bed with a sigh. Wild Winds was tying bells into the flap. Essa looked at me, and gave me a weary smile. “I confess, I thought you would refuse.”

“After all this?” I responded gently. “How could I?” I placed my satchel on the floor, almost afraid I’d lose it in the clutter. “Now, where are you hurt?”

Essa, proud Singer of the Plains, blushed. Flushed right up like a maiden. Surprised, I stood and waited, my eyes on Essa.

“It is not an honorable wound,” Essa admitted. He stopped speaking.

I waited in silence for a moment, then cleared my throat. “A Healer treats a healing as a Singer holds words in his heart.”

Essa looked at me closely. “Truth?”

I nodded. “I know that privacy is important to the one being treated. I will speak of it to no other.”

Wild Winds spoke. “Even Keir?”

I looked at him, then back at Essa. “Do you tell all to your bed mates?”

“No,” Essa confirmed. “I do not.”

“Nor do I,” I responded. “Unless it is something like a plague, where the illness can affect others.”

We sat in silence for a moment, as they considered this. I thought I heard Keir’s mail jingle in the other room. From the sound of it, my Warlord was pacing.

Essa cleared his throat again. “All the hours of sitting in Council has made it worse. And the itching . . .” Essa shifted on the bed. “It’s enough to drive a man to the snows.”

I arched an eyebrow, now knowing what the problem probably was, and started to dig into my satchel. “And your bowels? How do they move?”

With the relief of a confessed sinner, Essa started to give me all the details. I listened carefully, and pulled out one of the ointments that I always carry. “Call for warm water, please. And some cloths.”

Essa didn’t hesitate, nor did he pause when I asked him to drop his trous. I inspected the site carefully. “It’s not so bad, yet. But you must take steps to avoid it getting worse.”

So I gave him the cream, and we talked about his diet. I urged him to drink more water and kavage and avoid spicy foods for some time. I recommended that he sit in warm water at least twice a day. “If you do not take these precautions, they can get so bad that they hang out.”

Essa blanched as I turned to wash my hands. “That is to be avoided, if possible.”

“If possible.” I agreed. “But I have ways of dealing with that as well. But let us try this first. The ointment will aid with the itching.”

Essa sighed. “Council is over after tonight, for the season.”

“That will help.” I stood. “You might also consider using a cushion.”

Wild Winds said nothing the entire time. He’d found a stool in amidst the clutter, and sat there, his arms crossed over his chest, and watched as I explained the treatments to Essa. Now Essa looked at him. “Well?”

Wild Winds’s face was impassive.

“What?” I asked.

“He took a wound—”

Wild Winds cut Essa off with a gesture.

I looked down at my hands as I dried them off carefully. Essa spoke first. “She holds it as a Singer holds confidences. You’re not a fool, Wild Winds.” Essa crossed his arms over his chest. “Stubborn, but not a fool.”

Wilds Winds stared at me.

I crossed my arms and stared right back at him.

“So,” Keir said.

We were walking back to our tent, holding hands. I gave him a glance. “So?”

He looked at me questioningly.

“Ah.” I looked forward, and leaned against him for just a moment as we walked. “You wish to know what was wrong with Essa.”

“I didn’t think he took a wound during combat,” Keir mused. “Where was he hurt?”

I sighed. “Keir, healers treat a healing as a Singer of the Plains holds words in his heart.”

Keir frowned “You promised to tell me—”

“Where I go to heal and why.” I smiled at him. “I will tell you who I treat, but not the details. What’s done under the bells is private, yes?”

Keir grunted. We walked a few steps more and he spoke again. “But Essa took a healing from you?”

“He did.”

“And the Eldest Warrior-Priest watched?”

“He did.”

“I am satisfied,” Keir pronounced.

“I am glad.” I gave him a smile. “I will show you how glad when we return to the tent.”

Keir grinned.

We entered the tent together, Keir pretending to drag me within, saying something about claiming his Warprize. We were brought up short by the sight of Marcus and Amyu standing there, facing us. “It is time,” Marcus said.

Keir stiffened. “The ceremony is not until sunset.”

Marcus glared at both of us. “Herself needs to eat and bathe. You need to prepare as well.” Marcus crossed his arms over his chest. Amyu copied him. “She will be well guarded, and protected, Warlord.”