Warcry

laughed. “Come while I wash off this grime.”
    “We’ll not just talk business, either,” Ismari called after them. “I wish to hear of your adventures on the Plains.”
    Men and boys were rushing around, setting up a long table in the sunny courtyard. Others were running up with mugs and bowls. Still others were bringing in pitchers of water from another room, and baskets heaped with bread, cheese, and some kind of round meat.
    A line had formed at the well, and the boys were laughing and splashing one another.
    “Organized chaos,” Ismari laughed, guiding Atira off to the side. “Come with me. We can wash up in my chambers.” She led Atira over to another door.
    “Those rings are lovely,” Atira said. “Would I offend if I asked you if you truly made them?”
    “Not at all,” Ismari said, leading the way down a corridor to a small bathing room. “I work in gold and silver, and sometimes with gemstones.” She held up her hands. “It takes deft hands and a light touch. My mother did the same.”
    “But there are no other women here,” Atira said carefully.
    “Indeed, no,” Ismari laughed. “They love the look of gold, but once they get a feel of the heat, burns, and sweat, they lose interest in the work quickly.” She took off her apron and set it on a hook. “But I love creating beautiful things. The Queen’s rings were quite a challenge.”
    “You wear no ring,” Atira said as Ismari started to pour water into a large bowl. “Are you bonded?”
    “No,” Ismari chuckled. She gestured to the water. “We’d best hurry, for the lads can’t start until we are all seated. They will gnaw the table if we aren’t prompt.”
    As Atira plunged her hands into the water, Ismari continued. “I should warn you, the younger boys recently discovered the wonders of girls . . . if you know what I mean.”
    Atira shared a knowing look with her. “In that, there is no difference between our peoples.”
    Ismari laughed.
    When they emerged, the boys were shoving one another, vying for seats on benches, gawking at Atira. Dunstan was already seated at one end, Heath at his left.
    “Are you really of the Plains?” one of the lads asked, his voice a high squeak as Atira and Ismari walked toward that end of the table.
    “Aye,” Atira said with a smile. The boys’ heads followed her as she walked, staring at her as if they expected her to breath fire or something.
    Well . . . not really staring at her . They were focused a little lower than that.
    “Where are your manners?” Ismari scolded as she took her seat to Dunstan’s right and gestured for Atira to sit next to her. “Settle now. Dunstan, say the grace.”
    Dunstan rose, and everyone else bowed their heads over clasped hands. Atira had to smile as the apprentice’s sleeves fell back to show that their attention to washing had ended at their wrists.
    Dunstan clasped his hands together and bowed his head. Atira did the same, but she watched them all, curious. The youngest boys had their eyes squeezed tight. Silence fell, abruptly, with no one so much as shifting in their seats.
    Dunstan drew a deep breath. “Sun God, we thank thee for thy radiance and light.”
    “Sun God, our thanks,” was the murmured response.
    “For the work we have done, and will do, in your day.”
    “Sun God, our thanks.”
    “For the rest that we had, and will have, in your night.”
    “Sun God, our thanks.”
    “May your light illuminate our hearts now and forevermore.”
    “Sun God, our thanks.”
    Atira reared back as the table exploded into action, everyone talking and reaching for food at the same time.
    “You’d think they were wild dogs.” Ismari rolled her eyes as she snatched up a basket of bread and served Atira before she served herself. “I’ve given up at this meal, but I demand better at the evening meal. They’ll not leave our service without some manners.”
    “Pull your tongues in, lads!” Dunstan bellowed. “Stop your wandering eyes and eat. We’ve work to do this afternoon, and if it’s not done to my liking, you’ll celebrate the Queen’s wedding over a hot forge!”
    The boys promptly buried their faces in their food, stuffing it in their mouths as fast as they could.
    Dunstan grunted in satisfaction and turned to Heath. “Now what’s all this about the trade routes?”

    HEATH COULD SYMPATHIZE WITH THE YOUNG APPRENTICES. He liked staring at Atira’s breasts, too.
    He tried his best to answer Dunstan’s questions while