Warprize

me to be happy?
    I clutched one of the journals to my chest as my emotions overwhelmed me. Joy and confusion warred with one another. My mouth went dry, and I closed my eyes. What would happen when we returned to his home? Such a warrior as Keir had other… conquests. At least five. Of that I was certain. The image of him in another’s arms came to me and I felt sick. I closed my eyes and let the nausea pass through me. Keir moved his hand, running his fingers through my hair, spreading it out over the fur. His eyes flared blue light. “Want to know the best part of being a warlord?” I just looked up and nodded. Keir grinned.
    “I always get what I want.”
    I put my head down. The pain threatened to overwhelm me. Please Goddess, let him want me. Let him want me forever.
    Enough. I sat up and scrubbed at my face with my sleeve. I had work to do. I returned to the tent to check on my patients. The man was well; drowsy after eating. Atira was awake, though, and gestured me over when she saw me. I waved Gils off, since I knew he had other duties, and moved to sit by her side.
    “Warprize.” Atira looked deeply concerned. “Warprize, may I have your token?” She looked anxious and worried.
    I reached for one of her stones and handed it to her. “You hold my token, Atira. What truths would you voice?”
    She hesitated, looking at me closely. “I have heard a rumor in the camp about you, and I would ask you if it is true, and voice a truth if it is indeed true.” I had to think for a minute. “A rumor? About me?”
    “About your people.” She nodded “And you.” She rubbed the stone between her fingers. “Is it true that you are untouched? That your people do not mate until they bond?”
    I reared back, physically. Consciously or not, Atira did so as well, keeping a tight grip on the token and holding it up between us. It took me a minute to gather my wits. “Atira, who told you—”
    “Skies above, it’s true,” she whispered, staring at me in utter horror. “You bind when young and sleep only with your bonded?”
    I managed a nod, my face so hot it hurt. “Who teaches you then? Who instructs… ?” Her voice trailed off as she looked at my eyes. “No one? You are both left to fumble about?” She collapsed back on the cot in silence.
    I closed my eyes and pressed my fingers to my cheeks to try to cool them.
    “None told me, Warprize. I listened to the stories of your people, and the Warlord’s intent to follow your ways, and made a guess. But I must say this. Stupid. That is so stupid, Warprize.”
    I looked at her, puzzled. “What is that word? Stupid?”
    “Dull-witted. Foolish. Ignorant.” Her angry face glowered at me. “We have initiators. Teachers. Joden is one. He would be an excellent choice. You should request him.” She sounded like a parent recommending a Master to study under.
    I choked up, laughter and tears both in my throat, trying to find the words. “Atira, we believe that two people should come to the bonding… untouched… and learn together.”
    She shook her head, and held up the token. “The Warlord said to learn and respect different ways. But that is barbaric and stupid.” She held the stone out to me, frowning as she did so. I took the stone. “I thank you for your truth, Atira. As you say, our ways are very different.”
    “All I ask is that you think on my words, Warprize. Keir is experienced, but he is not an initiator. You have no thea to advise you in your choice, but come to me after you have thought on this and we will talk. I will mention this to no one.”
    I fled to the stilltent to throw myself into a frenzy of the familiar. As I had so often in the past, I lost myself in my work. Soon, I had various pots simmering and bubbling on the tables. A double batch of fever’s foe was cooling in some jars on the far table. I had a jug of my rose hip tea steeping in the corner. There were papers set out on every available surface as I tried to reconstruct my recipes for the various salves and lotions that I had made over the years. I had no marvelous memory to rely on and I found it hard going. It would be easier when I started mixing, since my nose would remember the smells as I worked. At least, that was my hope. I also hoped that the warmth that lingered on my cheeks was from the effort, and not from the discussion. Dearest Goddess, initiators? Would I be called on to bear five children? And what if Keir couldn’t father five children on me? Would I