Warprize

another’s hand, but closed it quickly. Silence seemed wiser. Marcus returned with a heavy tray and started the dishes to rattling as he placed them on the table. “No food.” He transferred dishes at a rate that made me fear for my life. “Didn’t rest.” He stepped back, surveying his handiwork. “Rolled in muck pits, that she did.” That one eye was focused on me again. “Sit.
    ” He pointed to the chair.
    I sat.
    “Hands.”
    I held them out, and Marcus poured the water over them, muttering something that did not sound like a prayer.
    “Eat.” He crossed his arms.
    “Shouldn’t I wait for…” My stomach chose that moment to express its interest in the food. At the sound, Marcus’ sole eye tapered its focus and drilled into me.
    “Eat.”
    I ate.
    As soon as my mouth was full, Marcus started to explain, in detail, the meaning of the words ‘food’ and ‘
    rest’. I decided that the wisest choice was to keep nodding and eating. Finally, Keir emerged from the privy room. “Marcus.”
    Marcus stopped and looked over.
    “Enough.”
    Marcus clamped his mouth tight, poured the water over Keir’s hands, then stomped off, muttering. The food in my mouth turned to straw. I managed to swallow, but it was a struggle. I’d no idea what to say, how to act, suddenly very aware of the bed behind me. I worried my lip, kept my face down, and focused on the table.
    The Warlord was in no hurry. He helped himself to the food and started eating. After a bit, I decided that it looked odd, to sit without eating or talking, so I started back up as well, careful to take small bites.
    “It was my fault.”
    I stopped chewing when he spoke. With a mouthful of food, I simply raised my eyebrows.
    “The tents. I knew that our warrior-priest had been killed in one of the battles. I meant to assign someone else to the wounded, but Simus went missing and in my rush, I forgot.” He looked down and toyed with his food. “I apologized to the men.”
    I swallowed hard at the last and stared at him in disbelief.
    Marcus chose that moment to come back into the tent, a wineskin and two goblets in hand. As he poured, he eyed us both. “Much good the food does, sitting on the table. Eat.” He set the goblets down on the table, slung the wineskin on the back of Keir’s chair, and cuffed Keir lightly on the head. “You as well, oh mighty one.” Then he stomped off, still muttering to himself. I held my breath at his nerve. Keir smiled a wry smile, and reached for the meat.
    Uneasy, I kept eating. Thankfully, Keir seemed more focused on his food than on me. I took another bite, determined to stay quiet, but something was bothering me. After a sip of kavage, I risked a question. “What of the other healers?” I asked. “Why didn’t they just do what needed to be done?”
    Keir shrugged. “There are no others.”
    “What?” I dropped my bread. “An army of this size, and you have no other healers? No assistants or apprentices?”
    Keir pulled some bread from the loaf. “Every man in this army is a warrior. There are no healers. The men pick up some basic knowledge on campaign. Men assigned to the wounded are on punishment detail.” He shrugged. “So it has always been.”
    “That’s insane! With an army this size? What about wounds like Simus’s?”
    “Men die from them.” His face was shadowed. “Either the wound kills them, or they are granted mercy.”
    I stopped, appalled to see his face full of pain. Someone this man had cared for had died that way. Keir turned his head. “Marcus is coming.”
    I started shoveling food into my face. Marcus walked in and surveyed the table with a frown. He grunted, apparently satisfied and walked back out. As soon as I figured it was safe, I spoke. “That ends now.” I glared at him. “That is what I do, part of what I am, and I am good at it.”
    He looked at me. “You would do this? Would ask to do this?”
    I faltered and dropped my eyes. A little late to be remembering my place, but I’d be damned before I let those men be neglected. “I would.” I risked a glance up, trying to read that expression, with no success. But hope grew when he nodded slowly. “You’ll let me?”
    He gave me a long look. “Yes. It would strengthen the peace, after the deaths.”
    “Deaths?” I asked, then remembered. “The horses?”
    “Slain with bolts from crossbows. A weapon only Xyians use.”
    “You must get word to Xymund. He will find the—”
    His look was dark.