Warprize

neutral.
    “Eln, I know what I want. Everyone at the castle is certain that I’m best for the kingdom, and I don’t think that’s true.”
    “And?”
    I gritted my teeth. Eln was in teacher mode, which was very irritating. “Simus won’t talk to me. Othur and Warren have already decided what is best for the kingdom. And I’m not sure of what to do next.”
    Eln stirred his pot for a moment. “If the kingdom were ill, what would you do?”
    “What?”
    He shot me a look. “If the kingdom were to somehow stumble into the clinic, weak and ill, what would you do first?”
    “I’d ask questions, try to discover what was wrong.”
    “Such as?”
    Impatient, I glared at him. “What is wrong? How are you feeling? Have you urinated today? Have you vomited? How are your bowels?”
    Eln kept silent and kept stirring.
    “One of the rules you teach us is that before we can start to cure a patient, we must first understand the disease.” He nodded, taking a pinch of marjoram and sprinkling it into the pot. I sat for a moment, trying to apply my healing skills to my problem. “I need to know what problems my coronation solves, and see if there’s an alternative.”
    He shrugged. “You need to start thinking.”
    I rubbed my cheek. “So you said.”
    “Well, you came up with a punishment for me, I fear.” He smiled ruefully. “Seems my newest patient wants me to read The Epic of Xyson to her on a daily basis. A fate worse than death.”
    I sat up, surprised. “Is Atira here?”
    “Just so. The Warlord sent her to me, with a pouch of gold. Asked that I see to her, since her healer is no longer available.” He held up a hand at my indignant expression. “His words, not mine.”
    “Where?”
    “I put her in the corner room. If you’re going back there, take this to her.” Eln handed me two mugs of tea. “She asked for kavage, but will have to make do with this for now.”
    I took the mugs and headed for the corner room. It was one of the larger ones, with a big fireplace of its own. Behind me, I heard Eln call out the door for one of the guards to fetch water, and for the others to keep chopping. I had to smile as I ducked into the corner room.
    Atira lay there, her leg suspended from one of Eln’s rigs, his weights pulling it straight. She blinked at me for a moment, then a smile covered her entire face. “Warprize!” She struggled to sit up. “No, no, that’s not right.” She narrowed her eyes in concentration. “Greetings, Your Majesty.” She spoke the words in Xyian. “Did I say it right?”
    I set the mugs down and helped her sit up. “You did.” Once she was settled, I handed her one of the mugs.
    She sipped it, and wrinkled her nose. “If I’d had time, I’d have asked for kavage before they hauled me here. But the Warlord hustled me right out of camp.”
    “Maybe Simus will share his supply.”
    She rolled her eyes. “Nay, he’ll hoard what he has and use the grounds twice, even if I had a headache that might kill me. Not that I blame him.” She looked at me over the rim of the mug. “I only got hints of what happened at the castle. The Warlord said that I was to be cared for here until the leg is healed, then join him on the Plains.” Her eyes were bright with curiosity.
    I took the hint and summarized what had happened. She listened intently, shaking her head when I reached the end.
    Heath stomped in, a load of wood in his arms. “Eln never changes, Lara. Always the task master.” He moved to the wood box and dumped his load. As he stood, he flashed a grin at Atira. “How’s the leg?”
    She frowned, and answered carefully in Xyian. “It is well. Thank you.”
    Heath laughed. “I don’t envy you, stuck here with Eln for the next few weeks.”
    Atira smiled. “I have this.” She held up The Epic of Xyson and the reader that I had purchased. Heath rolled his eyes. “That hoary old thing? There are better books to read.”
    Atira’s eyes got big. “There is more than one?” She looked at me for confirmation. Heath laughed. “I’ll bring you something from the castle that’s better than that one.” Eln’s voice raised from the still-room and Heath grimaced. “Back to work.” He gave me an imploring look as he walked to the door. “Please, don’t be long.”
    I laughed at him, then turned back to Atira, switching back to her language. “Will it harm Keir, not to produce a Warprize?”
    “Aye.” Atira nodded. “The Warlord sent messages when you were