Between them lay Meara in her basket, her little arms waving about, playing with a wide strip of privacy bells. I took another step and bent down to look closer, and gasped.

A tattoo. Goddess above, a tattoo.

Marcus and Gils moved and we all stood there, looking down at the smiling babe, with two thin tattoos on her tiny upper arm. I confess, my voice was a shriek. “YOU TATTOOED A BABY?”

Everyone looked at me in horror, but it was Pisila that answered. “Earth, no! Warprize, I used-”

“A stain.” Marcus knelt down, holding out a finger, which Meara grabbed with glee. He stretched out her arm for me to see that it was a stain, two thin parallel lines on her pink skin. I remembered now, Isdra had mentioned that to me. As I looked closer, I could see that the lines were really thin willow leaves. “With a fair hand.” Marcus added, clear impressed by the work.

Pislia’s smile was smug. “My thanks.”

Isdra was not appeased. “You had no right, warrior. The Warprize has not chosen a design.”

Pislia looked confused at that. “She has not? But I thought—” she gestured to my upper arm and I realized she’d mistaken my scars as tribal marks. “I thought that was the mark of Xy.”

Isdra proceeded to tell her how stupid she was as I

stood there, stunned. I couldn’t blame the young woman, I could understand her confusion. The scars on my arm were from when I’d been attacked by Xyians in the Fire-lander’s camp outside of Water’s Fall. How ironic that she would see it as my tribal marking, as was their tradition.

Meara waved the bells in the air, gurgling with laughter, as Isdra and Pislia argued.

I put my hand over my mouth, but I couldn’t keep my shoulders from heaving.

They all looked at me, worried, and Pislia spoke anxiously. “Warprize, forgive me. The stain will wear off.”

“Eventually,” voiced Gils.

That was it. I lost control, laughing so hard, I thought to wet my trous.

After they’d departed with the babe, a wave of weakness came over me. Marcus fixed me with a look. “Bed for you. Hisself sleeps, you sleep.” He gave me a long look. “You could sleep in the command tent, yes?”

“I don’t want Keir disturbed, Marcus.” I stared into my kavage. “I’ll sleep here.”

He frowned as he gather up the dishes. I shrugged, and played with the hem of my tunic.

“What is wrong, Warprize?”

It was my turn to sigh. “I feel guilty, Marcus. Why did it never occur to me that their lungs were filling? If I’d realized that in the village, maybe they would have lived and none of this would have happened.”

“Don’t you think that Isdra wonders why she failed to offer Epor comfort in that fashion? If she had, maybe he would have lived. No one knows the wind’s way, Lara. And you will make yourself mad trying to predict or say ‘what if’.”

I had to smile. “You sound like Eln.”

“A wise man.” Marcus chuckled, and picked up the pile of dirty dishes. I watched, but stopped him when he would have left. “Marcus? Would Isdra… ?”

He sighed and gave me a long look. “She made you a promise, Lara, and Isdra is not one to give her word lightly.” He looked off at the tent entrance. “But the breaking of a bond is a painful thing.”

“Like yours?”

He turned on me, the dishes in his arms rattling. “What do you know of that?”

I took a step back, surprised at his sudden anger. “Someone told—”

“No business of yours, or any other. Say no more of this to me.” Marcus spat out the words, and left.

I stared at him, bewildered at the sudden change. Suddenly, it all seemed too much, and I sagged, tired in body and spirit. We all were short of temper and energies.

A voice caught my attention, and I stumbled over to the entrance, to hear Keir calling my name. Goddess help me, that man was supposed to be sleeping.

I walked over to the command tent to find Rafe and Prest there, guarding the entrance. As Keir bellowed yet again, I looked at them and smiled. “Anyone interested in learning a game?”

Of course, I’d forgotten about their memories. Not their memories, exactly. It never occurred to me that they could hold the picture of the board in their minds, telling each other the movement of the pieces without having an actual board in front of them.

Rafe and Prest took to the game like ducks to water. They cheerfully learned the moves from Keir and then started playing. This had the added benefit of keeping Rafe from trying to do too much. I’d worried that he’d put our security before his well-being. Sitting and studying the chess board wasn’t as good as sleeping, but I would take what I could get.

Thankfully, Marcus had grown curious, and had started asking questions about the moves and the pieces. I made sure that they had the moves right, and left them to their own devices. I’d thought to kill two birds with one thrown stone, since Keir would have others to play with and I might be able to get him and Marcus to rest while playing. But Marcus grew adept at calling out his moves to Keir as he worked.

As the day wore on, they all kept themselves amused for the most part. I would go over to check on Keir regularly, but all was well, except for an odd feeling that I had. Both Keir and Rafe seemed worried about something, but what it was I couldn’t get them to tell me. Rafe in particular seemed always on the verge of asking me about something, only to change his mind at the last minute. Keir was just cranky about something.

Finally, when Rafe gave me that odd glance for about the tenth time, I confronted him. “Rafe, is there something you want to ask me?”

Rafe straightened, and gave Prest a beseeching look, as if asking him for help. Prest just shrugged.

“Warprize, some of the warriors, they are worried.”

“Worried?” I frowned, concerned. Perhaps there had been complications that hadn’t been reported.

“Worried.” Rafe nodded. “Especially the male warriors.”

Male? I thought about that for only a moment before the answer hit me. Of course. Male warriors not used to illness and its effects. I put a hand over mouth to cover my smile, thinking of Rafe and his four ‘nurses’. I only spoke when I could do so with a serious tone. “Rafe.”

“Warprize?”

“Rafe, sometimes, with this kind of illness, the male warriors may have other problems, lingering effects, that might worry them.”

Rafe looked at me, his face intent. “Problems?” His eyes drifted down slightly, then returned to mine.

“Problems.” I said firmly, giving him a steady look. “Such as maybe their… bodies… not working as they did in the past. But it is passing, and will return to normal when their full strength returns.”

“So.” Rafe thought for a moment. “Can I spread word of this?”

“Please.” He stood, as if to go, and I raised my hand. “And please spread the word that any can come to me when they have… problems.”

He paused. “Are you sure? It’s hard to know, Warprize, your ways are strange to us. No one wishes to embarrass you or to anger the Warlord.”

“I’m modest as to my body, Rafe. But not as to my patients. I have a token. I know what it means. Tell them to use it.”

“I will, Warprize.”

I watched him walk off to spread the word, and then turned and contemplated the command tent. Seems I

might need to have a quiet word with one very cranky, and very worried, Warlord.

“It’s called a’draw’.”

Keir and Prest glared at me. I remained calm, looking down at the playing board. “When neither player can maneuver the other into checkmate, it’s called a ‘draw’. The game is over with no winner.”

“There is always a winner.” Keir declared.

“And a loser.” Prest agreed.

I rolled my eyes. “Not always. Keir, you weren’t a clear winner against Xy.”

Keir flashed that boyish grin of his. “Ah, but I claimed my Warprize, didn’t I?”

I blushed. Luckily, Prest was studying the board. He grunted, “But I’ve no piece to offer as warprize.”