Warprize

On each other’s sticks. I watched, amazed, waiting for someone to hit a hand or arm instead of the sticks. But the dancers never seemed to miss a beat as they wove and pounded on each other. The crowd was yelling now, some calling out encouragement and others yelling insults. The group formed two interlocking circles and wove their patterns together. As each passed the place where the circles joined, they had to beat out the rhythms on the other sticks. I laughed with joy to see them move with no errors, in a perfect pattern. “
    How do they do that?”
    Simus laughed. Keir shot me an amused glance and responded. “Practice. Lots of practice.”
    The dancers were smiling, but I could see the concentration on their faces. I didn’t know whether to watch their feet, or their hands, and ended up trying to watch it all at once. Finally, just when I was convinced that fatigue would start to set in, the dancers all cried out at once, spun in place to wind their streamers around their bodies, and stood frozen, spaced evenly in a circle, facing inwards. The crowd erupted with cries of ‘heyla’ and praise. I
    clapped my hands together, which drew some odd looks from Atira and Simus. “That was amazing!”
    Atira sniffed. “I’ve seen better.”
    Marcus was handing me some kavage. “They were slightly off, Warprize. But not by much.”
    I took the drink eagerly. “When is the next one?”
    But Iften had already moved into the center of the field and was pulling the next token. He waited for the crowd to settle, before calling out ‘Yellow’.
    This was a larger group, some twenty people with yellow streamers came running into the field. Keir leaned over to me. “This group is trying for a very large pattern. Not so intricate but harder with so many.
    ” The drums began again, and I tried to pay more attention to the dancers individually. Sure enough, after just a few minutes, there was a groan from the crowd, and the dancers broke apart and ran off the field. Simus grunted when he saw my disappointment. “They stop when the pattern is broken, Warprize. The dance can’t continue if an error is made.”
    The next group summoned down to the field was brown. Their pattern was intricate, but started very slowly. As the drums speeded up, so did their steps, and the blows to their sticks. I watched in anticipation, trying to see the dancers the way Keir did, but all I saw was a wonderful explosion of movement, rhythm and color. Just as it seemed to reach its peak, the drums began to slow, and the dancers slowed at the same time, until they stood in their original positions. As the last drum beat faded, the crowd erupted into cheers. The dancers ran off, and the crowd started stirring. Keir stood and stretched. “The watches are changing.” He looked at me. “Warm enough?”
    I nodded, as Marcus held a plate before me. There were small buns there, and I took one in one hand. “
    What are these?”
    Atira grinned and reached for the plate as Marcus offered her one as well. “Warprize, take a bite.”
    I looked doubtfully at her, but she bit hers with relish, so I
    did the same. There was an explosion of spice in my mouth and I opened my eyes wide. Atira laughed. The spice was strong, but it didn’t burn. There was a sweetness to it that seemed strange at first. “What is this?”
    “Bread tarts.” Atira took another bite and talked around her mouthful. “Rare to get them in camp.”
    Keir and Simus were eating theirs, obviously pleased. Marcus had a proud look on his face, and even quirked his mouth in a grin when I took another bite. We were all enjoying the treat when a warrior came up to the platform. “Warlord, a messenger has come from the city.”
    “From Warren?” Keir asked.
    “From their king, Warlord.”
    “Bring him here.”
    The crowd was starting to settle, and Iften seemed to be looking at Keir for the signal to start. Keir gestured for him to continue, and the opening ritual was repeated. This time the dancers were wearing bells on their hands and feet, and carrying sticks. As they danced, Marcus frowned in disapproval. Apparently the bells were a distraction from the pattern, and Marcus was quick to express his opinion. Keir leaned over at one point and spoke softly, “Marcus danced patterns well before he was injured. But his eye gives him no vision on that side, and he no longer dances.” I nodded, but I liked the chiming of the bells, and was quick to call out ‘heyla’ at the