Warsworn

Isdra's braid. "Epor seems sweet on Isdra."
    "Eh?" Marcus growled. "Sweet? What means this?"
    I floundered for the unfamiliar words. "That he cares for her." There was an unnatural pause. I leaned forward. "Marcus?"
    "They are bonded." He spoke grudgingly, almost as if the words caused him pain. "Do you not see the ear spirals?"
    "Bonded? Is that the same as married?" I twisted about, trying to get a better look at their ears, but Marcus had apparently grown weary of me.
    "Ask Epor. Or Isdra." His tone was curt and he whistled, somehow catching Prest's attention. Prest raised a hand, and started to move back toward us. Because I was a burden on the horse, I was traded off every hour so as not to tire any one animal. The elements forbid that a horse be over-tired. I was starting to feel like a package in a trading caravan. Marcus spoke as Prest moved into position. "Joden is a good man, Lara, valued for his wisdom. He is heard in senel, although he holds no rank, and even by the Elders when he appears before their councils. He will make a great Singer once he is recognized as such." Prest drew closer, preparing to transfer me to his horse, but I ignored his outstretched hand. I leaned closer, trying to figure out what Marcus was talking about.
    "If you can't confide in anyone else, you can confide in a Singer." Marcus's voice was so soft, it was almost a whisper. "Words spoken to a Singer are held to his heart, where they cannot be pried free. Talk to Joden, Lara. Please."
    With that, they transferred me to Prest's horse without breaking stride, and Marcus faded back and away into the crowd.
    Prest was a full head taller than Marcus and easily twice as broad. I rather dreaded riding with him, since I couldn't see over his shoulders. That meant my stomach would be upset by the time I left his horse.
    Prest also wasn't much of a talker, which left me free to dwell on my miseries. If Atira were here, I might be able to confide in her, but she'd been left in Water's Fall, under the care of Eln. Her leg would heal true, but the break would not let her travel. Even surrounded by thousands of warriors, I felt terribly alone. Keir had been absent now for two days, and part of me feared he'd decided that this Warprize no longer interested him. Maybe I could talk to Joden, confide in him. Joden had helped me so much when I'd been taken to the camp. He'd been the one to figure out that I'd been lied to by Xymund, my late half-brother. But I felt so very stupid and silly. Like a spoiled child with a broken toy.
    Just how could I tell anyone how miserable I was? Fire-landers already had a fairly low opinion of soft city folk, and if I started complaining it would only strengthen their beliefs. I shifted my weight slightly and gripped Prest around the waist, trying to get comfortable. At least this much had improved. The first five days I'd ached so badly I'd thought to die. Spending day after day in the saddle had wearied my body in ways I didn't think possible.
    "Gurt?" Prest held up a soft pouch.
    "No," I replied softly, trying not to shudder as my stomach heaved. "Thank you." Prest grunted and popped a morsel in his mouth.
    'Gurt' is a kind of dried cheese, apparently made from some kind of goat-like animal. It looks like a small white pebble, which can be chewed, dissolved in water to drink, or melted over meat. Firelanders eat it at every meal. It stores easily, and never seems to spoil. They all carry a pouch of the stuff with them. While I had gotten to enjoy the taste of their kavage, gurt was another matter. It's horrid, bitter and dry, like a green apple in early spring. It was especially bad when they melted it over cooked meat.
    An army on the move has a limited diet. At every meal, it was cooked meat, gurt, and fry bread. Small bits of the dough were thrown into a pan of fat. That wasn't too terrible, but eating it day after day—well, I never really appreciated Anna for her skills. Or the marvels that Marcus prepared when we were in the camp outside of Water's Fall.
    But that had been a full camp. While we traveled, we made an overnight camp, which was a completely different thing. We no longer had the command tent, which was almost as big as some houses, and took a full day to erect. Now it was tiny little shelters that you crawled into to sleep. Or not sleep, as was my case. I'd lay alone in the small tent, wrapped in blankets, and stare at the covering around me. Every little sound, every step of a passing