Warcry

from that status,” Othur said.
    Atira looked at both of them, then folded her arms over her chest. “I would ask for both your tokens.”
    “You can tell us how stupid it is later.” Heath gave her a wry smile. “For now,” he turned to his father, “why won’t Lara talk to Keir?”
    “Something to do with the reactions of the Plains people to our beliefs.” Othur shook his head. “Lara is like a daughter to me, but the Sun God knows she’s stubborn.”
    Heath looked at Atira, and she gave him a shrug. “You worship people,” she explained. “It is . . . odd.”
    “No odder than some of your customs seem to us,” Heath pointed out.
    “So if they do not perform this rite, the babe can’t take the throne?” Atira asked. “So?”
    “No, you don’t see all the pieces,” Heath said. “Without a legitimate heir, Durst will be able to start trying to undermine Lara. And the only heirs would be her cousins.” Heath rolled his eyes. “No one wants the cousins.”
    “Why not?” Atira asked.
    “They are fanatics,” Heath grimaced. “They take sun worship to its extremes.”
    “Many of our people have accepted Keir because of the pregnancy and the continuation of the House of Xy. But it’s not a fatal problem.” Othur shrugged. “There will be other babes, no doubt, and one of them might be an heir.”
    “What if something happens to Lara in the meantime?” Heath demanded.
    “We must make sure that doesn’t happen,” Othur said, then sighed heavily. “But Lara seemed so adamant. I don’t know if—”
    “Has anyone explained this to the Warlord?” Atira asked.
    Othur spread his hands. “I can’t.”
    “I can,” Atira said. She pushed herself away from the desk. “Is there anything in this rite—this marriage pledge—that would dishonor the Warlord? Or the elements?”
    “Er . . .” Heath started to flush up. “I really don’t—”
    Atira looked at Othur, who shook his head with a smile. “The day I married Anna, I was so nervous I could barely talk. I can’t think of anything that would be a problem, but Cleric Iain has duty in the Chapel of the Goddess. He’ll be able to answer any questions.”
    “Well enough,” Atira said. “Let us go and find the Warlord.” She headed for the door.
    “I did take one step though,” Othur added. “The Archbishop will be at the High Court feast tonight. If the Queen would not address the issue, I thought the Archbishop’s presence might bring this all to a boil.”
    “He’s avoided the Court so far,” Heath said. “What makes you think he will appear tonight?”
    Othur smiled. “Oh, he’ll be there.”

    THE TABLE IN THE ARCHBISHOP’S PRIVATE QUARTERS was spread with his favorites. Pork roasted in milk and garlic. Crusty white bread. Vegetable pie with eggs, cheese, and greens.
    Archbishop Drizin spread his napkin over his lap and picked up his knife, licking his lips. The cooks had outdone themselves, and he blessed them for it. His stomach rumbled in happy anticipation.
    There was a pounding at the outer chamber door. He ignored it as he cut into the pie, breaking the golden crust so that the savory steam rose. He breathed in the scent with great pleasure.
    There were voices now, in the outer chamber. Protests. He scowled at the door as it opened and his servant slid within. “Beg pardon, Devoted One. But there’s a messenger from the Seneschal, Lord Othur.”
    “Have Browdus see to it.” Drizin waved him off. “I am dining.”
    “Devoted One,” the servant pleaded. “Deacon Browdus is not here. And the messengers are—”
    “Well, then tell them that I am at prayer and cannot be interrupt—”
    “Uff,” the servant grunted as he was pushed aside and the door opened the rest of the way. Master Healer Eln walked in, with guards following behind.
    Drizin stiffened. “Master Healer Eln, what brings you here?”
    “The news of your ill health, Devoted One,” Eln said dryly. “Lord Othur was concerned that you had not yet appeared at the castle. He asked me to convey that your presence and wisdom have been sorely missed.”
    “Well,” Drizin smoothed down the front of his robes. “Those are very kind words, but . . .” he frowned, suddenly remembering the position he was in. “My illness is not of a fatal nature. More a difficulty than anything else.”
    Master Healer Eln’s eyes flickered over the groaning table.
    “I was just going to try to force down a bite to eat,” Drizin added hastily. “To