I looked back at the others milling about. I was familiar with a few of the warleaders already. I’d met Sal when she’d come to me for advice on equipping the army and dealing with the Xyian merchants and traders. A stocky woman, with weathered skin and grey hair turned white by the sun, she loved to bargain for supplies. Yers, an average-sized man with brown hair and a crooked nose, had been Gils’s Warleader, and had been involved when

Gils had surprised everyone with his intentions of becoming my apprentice.

Iften made himself known by being rude and obnoxious, something he was skilled at. He’d shown early on that he despised me and all things Xyian, and didn’t hesitate to voice his opposition to Keir at every opportunity.

I smiled to see Joden enter the area, and he smiled back. Joden was not a warleader, but was acknowledged as the potential Singer that he was.

The others I was less sure about.

“Isdra?”

“Warprize?” Isdra took a step forward and knelt by my side.

“Can I ask you about the warleaders, without bells?”

She chuckled, keeping her voice low. “Yes, Warprize. You know Yers, and?”

“Iften.” We exchanged wry glances. “Sal, I’ve met before. She takes care of supplies for the army.”

Isdra nodded. “Aret is standing with Iften.” She was referring to a tall, thin woman with short, curly brown hair. “She’s in charge of the horses, and the herds when in camp, seeing to their well-being. Yers has the training and discipline of young warriors. Iften is now Second, so the senior warriors are also in Yers’s care.”

Iften had that position because Simus of the Hawk had remained in Water’s Fall.

Isdra continued. “Wesren is the warleader in charge of encampments, Ortis, the large man at the back, is charged with the scouts.”

Wesren was a short, thick man with thick black hair and beard. Ortis was a huge, lumbering hulk with a shaved head. He made Wesren look like a boy.

“Uzaina and Tsor are warleaders in charge of the army when on the march. Uzaina takes the lead, Tsor works the rear.”

I looked over, studying them. Tsor had skin the color of kavage with milk in it, and short black hair with traces of grey at the temples. Uzaina caught my eye, for she had her black hair in what looked like hundreds of small braids, each ending in a bead. They brushed her shoulders when she moved her head, making an odd clicking sound. Her skin was the color of dark amber, and the combination was very striking.

“So each has a duty beyond fighting. Right?” I asked.

“Yes. Except Seconds, who have the duties as the Warlord assigns. Duties do not change, ranking does. You understand? If Keir were to fall, skies forbid, Iften would lead.”

“Become warlord?”

“No. That requires the Elders.” Isdra made a slight snorting sound, which I interpreted to mean that event was unlikely.

Marcus approached, and frowned at Isdra.

Isdra made a face at him, but stood and stepped back, which seemed to appease him.

Marcus knelt to fill my cup. “Hisself will be here shortly.”

I looked him in the eye. “And if it’s true rebellion, Marcus?”

He shrugged. “It will be as it must.” He rose, cutting off the conversation, and moved away.

I took a sip of kavage. Why would a village of farmers and their families defy the Warlord? Did they think to use pitchforks and hoes against him? It made no sense.

But then Xymund had shown me that there was little ‘sense’ to be had in war.

Keir strode in, signaling me with a hand to remain seated. He accepted kavage from Marcus, nodded to a few of the leaders, and then moved to kneel next to me. He shook his head at the question in my eyes. “I know no more. The scouts are outside, we will hear their report together.”

I leaned forward, speaking in Xyian. “Keir, Iften is talking against Gils. I’m afraid that he will try to use him as a pawn against you!”

Keir frowned, and replied in the same language. “What is a’pawn’?”

I blinked, then shook my head at my own stupidity. How could he know, since I doubted he knew the game. “It’s a piece in a game. A pawn is an unwitting tool. An innocent person used against a friend.”

“Ah.” Keir stood and moved to stand before his blanket, waited until he had the attention of the group, and then sat, sinking down onto the pad. While Iften was second in command, there was no place made for him at Keir’s side.

The rest seated themselves, and Keir waited a breath before calling them to order. There was less formality at this senel then there had been in the past, but I could see Marcus at the back, and he had Keir’s token in his hands.

Keir spoke, silencing the group. “I have called for the scouts who met with violence, to hear their truths.” Keir gestured to Marcus, who pulled aside the leaves. Two men entered, walked to stand before Keir, and knelt, heads bowed.

“Ortis.”

At the sound of his name, Ortis stood. “Warlord, I assigned the scouts sent to cover the front. I sent these two warriors, Tant and Rton forward along the road to the village.”

“A village sworn to us?” Keir asked.

“Aye. The headman, the leader…”

“The mayor?” I asked, using the Xyian term.

Orris nodded. “That is the word he used, Warprize. The mayor had sworn fealty to you some weeks ago, Warlord. The walled village, where the goats roamed around the well.”

Keir chuckled. “I remember. They called it Wellspring. The mayor almost soiled himself during the oath.” There was a soft murmur of laughter at that.

A walled village meant that it was a remnant of my ancestor, Xyson. Few of those guard forts remained on the main road, fewer still had managed to retain a complete set of walls.

“Tant. Rton.”

The other two men lifted their heads. I recognized Tant, since he’d been the scout that found me on the road, following Keir. His eyes widened to see me sitting there, and he looked down, clearly uncomfortable.

The other man, Rton, spoke first. “We approached the village to find the gates closed, Warlord. We hailed them with a shout, but there was no response.”

Rton glanced at Ortis, and continued. “We moved closer then, and I dismounted to approach the gates, when someone started throwing rocks at us from the walls. A voice cried out, and then more rocks, and finally an arrow arched over the wall.”

“What did the voice say?” Keir asked.

“I have no city talk, Warlord. But it sounded angry and defiant.” Rton gestured nervously. “I mounted, and we moved off but there was no pursuit.”

“Our orders are, we meet resistance, we retreat and report.” Tant spoke up quickly, almost defensive. “So we circled round the walls and came back at a run.”

“How many warriors were on the walls?”

Tant and Rton exchanged looks. Tant shrugged. “Didn’t see any, Warlord.”

Rton nodded his agreement. “They never exposed themselves to us.”

“This wall,” Iften spoke up. “How is it made?”

“Stone at the front and around the gates.” Rton spoke with confidence. “Wood to the sides and back. They’ve built wooden structures inside, that sometimes take the place of a wall.”

“Easily overcome?”

Tant nodded. “Easy enough, Warleader.”

“Shouldn’t we talk to them first,” I argued, “before you make plans to destroy the village?”

“What else can this be, but defiance of the Warlord?” Aret asked.

“So much for their pledges and honor. Typical.” Iften’s voice was scathing.

Yers spoke, his face reflecting his conflict. “If they have defied the Warlord and broken their oaths they must be punished.”

Keir looked grim. “Is there anything more to report?” Ortis shook his head, and Keir dismissed the two scouts. When they were beyond the leaves, he spoke. “Joden, what say you?”

Joden sighed. “Warlord, your path is clear. If this is defiance, and a breaking of their vows, they must suffer the penalty. But we know from experience that the different languages can cause problems of understanding.” He gave me a look, and I nodded in return, sharing the mem-ory. Joden continued. “I say, be on a war footing, but approach the village again with a speaker of their tongue. Be sure of the offense before dealing punishment.”