Warlord

beloved.'
    Then his eyes grew thoughtful, and I knew that he was seeing some of the advantages that I saw. His eyes flicked to Iften, still struggling with the idea, and his mouth quirked slightly. When his gaze shifted back to me, the look he gave me was one of exasperation. 'I trust you, but you might have warned me.'
    I shrugged, and smiled at him. I'd have warned him if I'd thought of it before this moment.
    "So. Iften of the Boar." Keekai's voice held a very formal and rather satisfied tone. "What say you?" Iften's eyes darted around, from me to Keekai, to Keir, and then to the warrior-priests. I'd never seen him at a loss before.
    It felt good.
    "Iften." Keekai's voice was now impatient. "You have been offered the honor of Guardian to the Warprize. How say you?"
    Iften's face was dark, his gaze coming to rest hard on mine. The hate was almost a physical blow. "I accept."
    "Do you pledge to keep the Warprize safe and see her unharmed to the Council of the Elders at the Heart of the Plains?" Keekai pressed the point, more for Keir's benefit than mine. Iften put his shoulders back. He'd recovered a bit, and the accustomed sneer was back in his voice when he spoke "I do."
    Keekai nodded. "Then gather your gear. We depart when you are read—"
    "Elder." Keir spoke, interrupting her.
    "What now?" Keekai snapped.
    "I'd ask that Joden of the Hawk go with you to the Heart. He should return quickly, so that he may be tested as a Singer." Keir's voice was bland, as if it meant nothing to him either way, but I knew he wanted someone he trusted with me on the journey.
    Keekai gave him a considering look, and turned to speak to Joden, but once again, she was interrupted.
    "No." One of the warrior-priests spoke. It might have been Still Waters, but it was hard to tell. "That one denied mercy and must answer for it."
    Joden had kept his face neutral, but his eyes narrowed at that point. But Keekai was already shaking her head. "My goal is the Warprize, and no other. Joden must make his own way, in his own time."
    "But—" Keir pressed his point, but Keekai would have none of it.
    "No, Warlord." She cut him off with a simple gesture of her hand. She turned a bit, to look at the warriors that had gathered around us. She scowled. "And don't you all have four ehats to render? Off with you!"
    The crowd broke up, warriors scattering off to their tasks. Iften headed to his tent with a warrior-priest, both deep in conversation. Keir moved over to talk to Marcus, and they spoke in low tones. Joden and Yers had stayed behind, along with my four guards. Rafe had a faintly offended look. I caught his eyes and shrugged an apology. He looked at me for a moment, and then his smile lit his face and he shrugged back. I was forgiven.
    Marcus came toward me, leaving Keir to stand alone. He pulled Greatheart along, with a snort of protest from the horse. Without hesitation, he stepped between my warrior-priest guards and handed me the reins. Keekai turned her head to look, but didn't object. My new warrior-priest guards didn't even bother to look at him.
    Greatheart immediately started snuffing at my hair happily. I reached over to scratch him on his chest, just over his scar.
    "Hisself says to say he is not certain this is wise. Do not leave Keekai's side," Marcus spoke softly as he adjusted Greatheart's harness.
    "I won't."
    "I say you do this so as to look at that one's injury, yes?" Marcus's one eye gleamed bright. I choked back a laugh, and reached out to put my hand on his arm. "I wish—" Marcus shook his head. "It cannot be. But you have brightened my skies, Lara." He took my hand, and shoved the sleeve of my tunic up my arm. He was shielding our movements with his body and cloak.
    "Marcus?"
    With swift fingers, he strapped something to my arm. It took me a moment, but I recognized it. It was the knife that Heath had been given by Xymund—the knife he had been told to kill me with.
    "You release it so, and it is in your hand." Marcus demonstrated quickly, then reset the blade and pulled my sleeve down. "Tell no one. Practice when you can."
    I nodded, unable to speak. The noises around us told me that Iften was returning. "Keep him safe for me, Marcus," I begged.
    "See to yourself, Lara," came the gruff answer, and Marcus turned to go. Iften was coming up, leading a horse with saddle and packs, his cloak over his arm. Marcus stepped in close and deliberately walked into Iften, knocking into his shoulder. "Be sure that you keep her safe,