Warlord

Iften had rejected my healing skills, only allowing the warrior-priest to cast 'spells' on his arm. He seemed to use it without any pain, but he used a leather bracer on that arm, and I couldn't get more than a glimpse.
    Yers was there, a warm smile on his face. He inclined his head to me in a respectful greeting. That was something else that I had learned about these people. The way they nodded or inclined their heads was an important indicator of status and consent. From the slight nod of a Warlord, to the showing of the back of the neck by one of very low status, it marked your position in their world. It was also a way of showing one's opinion about a situation. They did it without really thinking about it, and I'd only learned through watching carefully.
    Because Simus had remained in Xy, and Iften was Second, Yers was now Third. A handsome man, with a rather large, crooked nose. He supported Keir, for which I was grateful. Sal the quartermaster was there as well, and while she nodded in greeting, her position was almost completely neutral. So long as she could bargain for supplies for the army, she was content. Aret, who was responsible for the herds, was keeping an eye on both sides, and would support the winner. Tsor and Uzaina, the warleaders responsible for the warriors on the march, had also kept their distance, although they seemed to be leaning toward Iften.
    Wesren, who had charge of the encampments, was clearly on Iften's side. But Ortis, the huge man who had helped care for tiny Meara, supported Keir. He also had charge of the scouts and the messengers that Keir relied on.
    Joden was there as well, sitting on his horse, looking out over the Plains. I pulled to a stop next to Joden.
    "Good morning, Joden."
    He turned his dark, broad face to me and gave me a nod. "Xylara." I showed no sign, but the greeting hurt. Joden had been a staunch supporter of Keir and myself until the events at Wellspring. But since that time, he'd changed. Joden had lost some of his fire. Caring for the dead, singing for their souls, had put a burden of sorrow on him that words could not heal. He was honest in his opposition, and he'd told me directly, but it still stung. He'd been the first to call me Warprize, and he'd been the one to explain my position to me. But now he used my formal Xyian name, and no other.
    Marcus shot him a glare, but Iften smirked. The tensions were there, under the surface and still brewing. But all were to speak before the Elders, and they would decide the truths. I felt a knot of tension start to build, right between my shoulder blades.
    "Are we ready?" Keir asked of his warleaders.
    I glanced over, unsure of his meaning. He was looking at his warleaders, watching them nod, all with a look of eagerness about them. What in the world—
    "The scouts have ranged, and found no threats, Warlord," Ortis reported. Yers nodded in agreement. "We are ready, Warlord."
    Keir smiled in satisfaction. "Then we will celebrate our return home, and then camp for the night."
    "We could still make time, a few hours of travel," Iften pointed out. "At the rate you have set, we will not reach the Heart of the Plains until the new grass has grown."
    Keir gave him a long look. "After we dance, we will rest. Wesren," Keir continued, never taking his eyes off Iften. "Make plans for a camp tonight. We will move on in the morning." I held my breath, for Iften had almost challenged Keir once before. But this time Iften faced a healthy Keir, fully capable of meeting him in combat. Iften looked away, and I let the breath ease from my body in relief. I was certain Keir could take him, but I didn't wish to see it brought to a test. Keir seemed to reach the same conclusion, turning to look out over the warriors that stretched out before us. "Marcus, you'll stay?"
    "I will." Marcus dismounted, and removed his saddle bags. He moved over to remove Keir's saddle bags as well.
    "Keir?" I asked, concerned suddenly.
    He flashed a grin at me, his face boyish and relaxed. "Off your horse, my Warprize." I dismounted, a bit puzzled. Greatheart seemed to know that something was up. He danced a bit as Mar cus took off his saddle bags as well. Once that was done, Marcus and I took positions off to the side, and I watched as Keir raised his face to the skies and warbled a long cry. To a man, the warriors below turned and looked in our direction. I saw that their horses were stripped of saddle bags, even the pack horses were bare. There was a