Warprize

returned to my small table, more to think then to accomplish anything. The differences between us seemed so vast. I almost laughed out loud to think of the Archbishop’s reaction. Five children, with no blessing of the Goddess. But then I stopped. Did that mean they were free to lay with each other at any time? If so, what need was there for a warprize?
    A cough interrupted me. I turned to find a stocky woman standing there, skin brown and weathered, her short hair a pale white. “Warprize. The Warlord has directed me to find out what your supply needs are. I am Sal, supply master.”
    I stood. “Sal, I am glad to see you. I had hoped to have a list ready, but…”
    Sal snorted, then sat. “What good would that do? Tell me what you need.”
    “Well, if you know what the former healer used, I can work off those items.”
    Sal looked at me, her hands on her knees. “Warprize, the Warrior-priest would not have deigned to speak to me, let alone tell me his needs.”
    “But how did he heal so many with such limited supplies?”
    Sal gave me a grim look. “He didn’t. Now, what do you need?”
    So I started telling her about fever’s foe and orchid root and all the other things that would supply me with the basics. She kept her eyes on mine, only occasionally stopping me to ask a question as to what something was, or to make sure that she knew how much I required. Hesitantly, I also asked about braziers and bowls to mix my medicines. She grunted at that.
    Finally, I ran out of ideas. She nodded once and settled back on her stool. “So. Let me make sure I have it right.” She took a breath, and started reciting.
    I was impressed. She had remembered every item, the quantity and its description. I listened carefully as she recited, nodding as she went along. I didn’t have to correct her once. When she was done, I nodded and smiled. She relaxed a bit, but there was no smile on her dour face. “All right?”
    “Perfect.”
    “Only the sky is perfect.” She stood and stretched, and moved to where Gils had left a pitcher of kavage. She brought it over with two mugs. “Not the hottest, but wet.” She poured two mugs and handed me one. “Now, I have questions for you.” Seated back on the stool she leaned forward, an odd look on her face. “What do you know of the city merchants?” Her eyes were alight with a strange kind of glow.
    “Well, I know a number of them.”
    She leaned forward. “Have you bought from them?”
    “Yes.”
    “Tell me,” she said “tell me about them.” There was a scowl as she drank her kavage. “I must needs deal with them for supplies. These ways are new to me. Tell me how they deal and what they are like.”
    I chuckled. I knew that look now. It was the same look that Remn got in his eye when he was haggling over the price of a book.
    We talked for a long time. Sal had questions about sellers of livestock, produce, cloth, and everything an army could want. She already knew all the types of coins used in the kingdom of Xy, and their relative values. She was not so interested in the butchers and bakers, and I couldn’t answer her questions about the dealers in swords and armor. She seemed well satisfied, and stood and stretched, looking out the entrance of the tent. “I’ve kept you late, Warprize. My thanks.” With that, Sal left as quickly as she had come.
    I looked after her in surprise. “Is she always that abrupt?”
    Rafe and Prest chuckled at my expression. “Unless you’re haggling, Warprize,” said Rafe.
    “Let me check Atira one more time.”
    Atira blinked at me as I checked the leg, and smiled drowsily. “Warprize.”
    “Atira. How do you feel?”
    “Good, Warprize.”
    I sighed. “Lara. My name is Lara.”
    She yawned. “Yes, Warprize.”
    I sighed. Apparently I was wasting my time.
    On the walk back to the Warlord’s tent, we paused to look at the stars that hung in the sky, and the moon riding low. Rafe was explaining the significance of the fact that Joden wanted to talk to Atira. “It’s an honor, to be in a song.”
    Prest nodded. “A great honor.”
    “To be honored for a broken leg?” I asked, skeptical.
    Rafe chuckled. “Well, it would be better if it were a battle deed, but it is rare indeed to be in a song. Unless you’re particularly brave or cunning—”
    “Or dead.” Prest added.
    “Or dead.” Rafe agreed. “Joden must also be planning on singing about you, Warprize.”
    “Me?” I stopped outside the tent.
    Rafe