Warprize

be required to ‘use’ someone else?
    There was a noise at the entrance, and I looked up to see Marcus wrapped in a cloak, carrying a large basket. He fixed me with that one eye. “As Hisself thought. Past the nooning, and you with no food in or near you.” He tsk’ed at the look on my face. “Aye, lost in your work, as I expected. Well then that one of us has the common sense the elements gave all creatures.” He looked around. “Already? No space for food or drink?” I laughed and we pulled out some crates to sit on. He pulled out some dishes and a flask from his basket. I dug in, suddenly starved. Marcus was wandering around and sniffing my concoctions.
    “Is Warren still here?” I asked around a mouthful of food.
    “Aye.” Marcus sniffed the fever’s foe. “They’re swilling kavage and telling old war tales.” He rolled his eye. “From the sound, one would think that they were fighting all the battles over again.”
    “Marcus?”
    “Aye?” He replied, still poking around.
    I cleared my throat. “What happened to you?”
    He turned swiftly and stared at me. I thought I might have offended him, but he snorted. “Healers.” He laughed quietly, “I figured you’d ask eventually.” He pulled up a crate and sat down. “All right then, ‘tis simple enough. Ever hear of fiery pitch?” He gestured for me to keep eating, so I just shook my head.
    “Thought not.” He sighed. “Nasty stuff. It’s flung against an enemy. It’s a substance that burns when fired and sticks to whatever it touches.” He studied his feet. “I was in such a battle, and was stupid enough to have my head up when a shot landed nearby. I caught just the edge of it, but’t‘was enough.” He sighed. “
    It coated me and burned and burned. I’d thought better to die, but a young warrior, barely dry behind the ears, would not listen to my plea for mercy.” He looked up, serious. “Hisself would not do it. He would not let me go. Through the pain and fear of the days that followed, he would not let me go.”
    Marcus stood. “When it was done, and I was healed, well… my days of battle were over. I would not last on the field for long with a blind side.” His hands flexed at his sides, and he rubbed his face and head with them. “The sorrow of that loss hurt worse then the burns.” His hands lowered and his one eye looked off in the distance. “Hisself cursed me for a fool, and made me his bearer.” Marcus shrugged. “I have served him ever since.”
    “So he did the same thing Joden did.” I thought for a moment. “Was he punished?”
    Marcus had to laugh at that. “No, Warprize, not in the sense that you mean. I was a simple warrior, no second-in-command. Keir’s refusal was not treated well, and caused many a comment, but you’ve seen him fight. There’s none that would challenge. Many took his token and criticized him for the violation of tradition, but he answered to their truths every time.”
    He stood and wrapped the cloak about him, covering himself completely. “Nay, Joden’s action was different. His failure to give mercy resulted in Simus being captured and there’s the point, Warprize. While Keir supports him and Simus has thanked him, there will be larger problems with the Council of Elders. Aye, and maybe with the Singers, too.
    “How did the healers…”
    Marcus grimaced. “I have no idea who did what, or how, and no wish to remember the details. It was long ago, Warprize.” He glared at me and pointed at the plate of food. “Eat. I must return to the tent and see if Hisself requires anything.” He smirked and raised an eyebrow. “Simus is telling his tall tales, and those city-dwellers are believing every word. I needs get back and poke holes in the bucket he carries his conceit in.”
    I chuckled as he left the tent.
    I worked as I ate, jotting down notes as I recalled the recipes. When they were done, I set the pots to cooling. I had time to distill a cough remedy that I remembered, if I could find the ingredients in the crates. I looked to see if I had remembered to get honey. Added, it would sweeten the brew. Suddenly, there were noises outside, of men and horses. The flap opened, and Isdra stepped in. “
    Warprize, there are wounded.”
    “Wounded?” I jumped up, removed my last pot from the brazier, tied back my hair, and hurried out. The healing tent was filled with milling men as the wounded were brought in. The captain of the scouts saw me and hurried