Warlord

a movement in the shadows of a tent caught my eye.
    It was Marcus. Fully cloaked, and hidden between two tents.
    I almost felt like crying, but I kept moving, not wanting to put him at risk. How hard was it for him to move about, in a city of people who thought him afflicted?
    They were here, all here, and that meant that Keir was close as well. I drew a deep breath of satisfaction, and kept walking.
    We were almost to the tent, when a warrior came towards us, at a run. "Warprize! Warprize!"
    "Here!" I called out, and the warrior ran over. My guards reacted, drawing their weapons as if to ward him off. The warrior stopped just outside their reach.
    "Warprize." He sucked in air in order to speak. "Warprize, there is one that is ill. You must come."
    "No." One of the guards spoke.
    The warrior ignored him. "Warprize, I fear it is the plague."
     

 

     
     

Chapter 10

 

     
     

     
    For a brief instant, my heart filled with joy. It was a ploy. Keir would be waiting in a tent, pretending to be ill—
    But then I saw the fear in Tant's eyes, and knew it was no gambit of Keir's. Tant was terrified. No one who had lived through the horror of the plague would ever take it lightly. Goddess, no.
    Deep within, a part of me started to wail in fear. The image of this city of tents burning, of these warm and vibrant people dead, flashed before my eyes.
    But the other part, the Master Healer, awoke with anger and determination. Not here. Not if I had anything to say about it. I clutched the strap of my satchel. "Where?" Relief flooding his face, Tant turned to lead the way, and we both ran into two of my guards, who had moved to block our path. "No. This is not—"
    "Bracnect," I snarled. "Follow if you wish, but get out of my way." I pushed past them, pulling Tant with me.
    "Xylara," Amyu called, but I ignored her. I knew well enough that they wouldn't hurt me. As if to confirm my thought, two guards ran off, no doubt to report my transgressions.
    "Keep moving," I whispered, and Tant obliged, moving off at a trot. I followed close behind, my thoughts racing with my feet.
    Could it be the plague? We'd waited the required forty days after Gils died. A flash of sorrow cut me as I remembered the boy. His had been the last death caused by the illness. We'd waited the forty days, and dawdled as we'd traveled. Tradition said that was time enough for the plague to fade away. But the sweat had been like no other, killing quickly and striking fast. Maybe we hadn't waited long enough. Maybe we'd carried it with us, an unseen enemy, into the Heart of the Plains. My mouth went dry, but my eyes started to tear. Oh, Goddess, please, no. All these people. All these children. In my mind's eye I saw again the blackened village, used as a pyre for the dead. We were at a tent and in before I could take another breath. The tent wasn't large, and held a pallet with a child on it, surrounded by three women, a small brazier off to the side. I focused instantly on the child, a boy, hair plastered to his forehead, damp with sweat. He turned wide, frightened eyes towards me.
    "I found her," Tant started, but then Amyu and two of my guards burst into the tent.
    "Outside," I barked.
    They hesitated.
    "Outside!" one of the women snapped, repeating my order with a glare as fierce as Marcus's. That was too much for them, and they retreated out through the tent flap. I knelt beside the pallet. "I am Lara, of—"
    "Tant told us." The woman spoke. "I am Inde of the Bear, thea to Sako." She nodded her head toward the boy on the pallet. "Tant told us of the 'plague' and gave us this." She held out a jar of fever's foe. "We didn't know how to use it, and Tant said that you must be brought here, to treat the child." The other woman protested. "She should not be here. Who is she, a city-dweller, to treat a child of the Plains? You offend the elements and the warrior-priests."
    Inde's glance was a quelling one. "I will risk that, to protect the life of this boy." The woman scowled, but closed her mouth in a tight frown.
    "How long has he been ill?" I reached out to feel the boy's forehead, smiling at him. He stared at me un-blinkingly. His wooden weapons were next to him, on his pallet, set out much the same way that Keir positioned his. That had to mean he was between three and four years old.
    "A few hours." Inde took up a cloth, and bathed the child's forehead. "He complained of feeling tired ear lier, and I put him to bed. I should have realized when he