Warprize

the stuffiness of the tent. The stars above were peeking out. Once outside, I realized that Heath had already left. He was probably in the castle kitchens.
    Arneath’s mirth faded as he took up his position. “Don’t see why you waste time on them. Nothing but animals.” His gruff, oily tone followed me as I started off toward the castle. “Or maybe you’re thinking that helping the dogs will make you friends in the enemy camp. In case things go bad.”
    I pulled up short, stopped in my tracks. There were chuckles from the guards, but they were uneasy ones, as if they believed that evil lie. I turned and managed to keep my voice even. “It is by the King’s command, Arneath. Besides, I am a Master Healer. I treat any who are in need.” I tilted my head and smiled. “Did the ointment you asked for clear up that crotch rot?”
    Arneath flushed as the guards guffawed. Amidst the laughter and taunts now aimed at him, I turned and continued on my way, entering the overgrowth. Once out of sight, I let my shoulders sag a bit. I shouldn’t have done that. Father would have shook his head in despair at my flash of temper, and my crudeness. Worse, Arneath was in a position to take his frustrations out on the prisoners. I scowled at the hapless path below my feet. Still, he’d deserved it. How dare he imply that I, a Daughter of the House of Xy would—
    I remembered the brooch in my basket and flushed.
    The shadows were deeper now. I narrowed my thoughts to staying on the path and shivered slightly in the night air. As I walked, I mentally started to inventory my supplies. I wanted to go to the market early on the morrow to get what I needed. Xymund had made it clear that none of his supplies were to be used on the prisoners. I rolled my eyes. As if he had ever gathered herbs for the still room. At that, I started to worry my lower lip. It was easier to think about herbs than to think about the brooch in my basket. It marked the large black man as a leader of men, something I was sure no one had yet realized. If Father were still alive, I’d have no hesitation in telling him. He’d have used the situation to his advantage, but he’d not kill a man in cold blood. I could tell Heath, but he’d have no choice but to go to his superior, which was Arneath. My steps slowed as I thought about that option. Arneath would kill the man, of that I was certain. If Heath took the information to Xymund directly, it would place Heath square between us if it came to an argument, and I’d not do that to him. Same for Othur, the Seneschal. Now, Lord Marshall Warren, he I could trust. Father had appointed him to his office and had faith in him. He would stand against Xymund to the extent that anyone could. I took a deep breath. It would be some time before the man was conscious. I would tell Warren and let him decide what to do with the information.
    I remembered the rose hips as I came to the briar and decided to try to gather enough for a potful of syrup. It was dusk, true, but I could see well enough and touch would tell me if they were ready. I set the basket and bundle down and reached into the bushes, feeling my way. The scent of the remaining roses surrounded me and filled my lungs. And my memories. The scent of roses by Xyron’s bedside, as he lay dying.
    Father had sickened slowly, gradually. Like the shades of gold that dust the trees at summer’s end. The signs had been there, but I’d missed them along with everyone else. Once it was obvious, the illness had continued, regardless of the remedies that we’d tried. He’d wasted away slowly, growing weaker with every passing day. Nothing had helped.
    Xymund had slowly taken up the reins of power, trying to ease the burden on our father, but that had not gone well. At first, Xyron had encouraged Xymund to take up his ceremonial duties, so that he could conserve his energies for the business of ruling. But as his energy waned Xymund had to try to fill the holes. I’d credit him that, for my half-brother never once moved forward unless he saw that Father was no longer able to perform a duty, or concentrate on a problem set before him. But Xymund had fumbled a few decisions while learning his role, and members of the Council and the Guilds had gone to Xyron directly, setting ailing father against fledgling king.
    Serving my apprenticeship and performing my journeymen duties had pulled me out of active Court life. I
    ’d been isolated even further when Father grew ill,