Warprize

flying from his mouth.
    “You bragnect! I bought them with his coin!”
    Marcus blinked. Apparently it was an effective curse in their language, since it seemed to leave him speechless. His recovery was quick. “Could have asked Hisself or 1.”
    I rolled my eyes, just imagining that conversation.
    “No more than she could tell us about the dress, apparently.”
    My turn to lose my tongue. Keir’s tone was mild, but his look sharp. Simus was watchful, his two daggers gone, and the kavage back in his hand. “Tell us, Warprize. Tell us what you did not tell us yesterday.”
    Marcus scowled, eye darting between the two of us. “Dress? What was wrong with the dress?”
    “We don’t have cloth like yours, with the colors so strong, so bright.” I ran my free hand through my hair, pulling it back.
    Marcus snorted. “City folk all dress like drab, dull geese, waddling about, squawking at—”
    Keir had seated himself at the table and was filling his plate. “They acted as if I had branded you, marked you somehow.” He tilted his head. “Did I?”
    Marcus snorted, turning to Keir. I took the opportunity to tuck my underthings under one of the pillows on the bed. “It’s a fine dress, the color of flame, it honored her. How is that a problem?”
    “For us, it is an honor.” He pinned me with his eyes. “For you?”
    I sighed. “In Water’s Fall, only a whore wears red.”
    Marcus’s eyebrow shot up, and he glanced at Keir before he looked at me. “A whore? That insult?” I nodded. Marcus turned to face Keir, placing both hands on his hips. “Do you hear this? We do not have such a word, thanks to the skies.” He threw his hands up in the air. “This will never work. Bringing together their ways and ours, it cannot hope to—”
    Keir slapped the table with his open palm, rattling the dishes. Marcus and I both jumped. “It will work.”
    Keir stood there, grim and determined. “I will weave a new pattern between these ways.” He glanced at Simus. “I will use my mistake as an example for my people.” His eyes flashed at Marcus, who stood, radiating disapproval. “We will learn of our differences, ask questions when needed.” His glare centered on me now. “Offer information freely, with no fear.” I flushed and looked away. “Am I understood?”
    Simus and Marcus both bowed their heads. “Yes, Warlord.”
    I did the same, biting my lip.
    Keir settled at the table and reached for bread. “Simus, have your men return you to your tent. Marcus, the kavage needs warming.” Marcus retreated. Keir didn’t look at me. “If you wish to bathe before eating, you may.”
    I fled to the privy.
    Keir and Simus were gone when I emerged. Marcus wasn’t there either, but I could hear him rattling dishes beyond the tent walls. I rummaged in the saddlebags, and put a touch of vanilla oil on the back of my neck. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath of the warm fragrance. Just for a moment, I was back in Anna’s kitchen as a child, hearing her laughter and the jingle of her keys, surrounded by those I loved. The tightness in my shoulders eased. I took a few deep breaths before sitting at the table. Marcus entered, placing a heaping plate down before me. “Warlord’s gone to send a messenger to the castle.” He poured kavage in my mug, hesitating before setting it down. “I meant no offense, Warprize.” I looked at him, puzzled. “The dress. I meant no insult.”
    I stared at my plate. “I should have said something, Marcus. You were just so proud for having found it, I just couldn’t—”
    He shook his head and grimaced. “Not the first time my pride got in the way, won’t be the last.”
    “Marcus—” I pushed the food around on my plate. “Marcus, do you support Keir in this peace? Does the army?”
    “We’re a people who’ve known nothing but battle and raiding. Conquering and holding land, the blending of our ways with yours is a new idea. And one Hisself is bent on.” Marcus’s eye was lost in the distance, and his fingers drummed on the pitcher. “All knew of his plans for this place, and followed in that understanding, but there’s miles between knowing and doing.” He wrinkled his nose as he focused on me. “Hisself holds the reins, but there’s always someone that frets at the traces. Iften would gladly see Hisself fall off this horse.”
    Marcus sat on one of the stumps, slumping. “Then there’s you.”
    “Me?”
    “Aye. A warprize must be taken to the Heart of