Warsworn

sentry, every snort of a horse, every lump in the hard ground under me had my eyes open for most of the night. It wasn't so bad when Keir was with me. For some reason I could sleep in his presence. Well, truth be told, I could sleep in his arms. But he had duties and had to travel from one end of his army to the other, and it spread out for miles. So there were some nights when he wasn't in our shelter, and I had not seen him at all for the last two days.
    Firelanders could sleep in the saddle. If I tried that, I got sick. Firelanders, in the saddle, could repair tack, or sharpen blades or argue or, Goddess help me, talk.
    Which was another thing. We had horses in Xy. I'd been taught to ride as a child, and have ridden many times. But in the city I rarely bothered. By the time a groom had saddled one for me, I could be halfway to where I was going. You had to worry about tying them to things and leaving them for long periods. I'd never been really enamored of the beasts; they were a form of transportation and not much more.
    But I'd learned fast that Firelanders had relationships with their animals. Horses were treated like small children, acknowledged and admired. One of the worst insults imaginable was
    'bragnect' which meant 'killer of foals'. Now that I knew what the word meant, I was much more careful about how I used it.
    And just like proud parents are wont to do, they talk about horses. Constantly. Obsessively. They'd discuss the details of ears and mane and gaits until I wanted to scream. They had seventeen words for a male horse and could talk for hours about saddles. They loved to modify saddles with hooks and protrusions and supports, and talk out the advantages and disadvantages. Their world is very dependent on their animals and it was fascinating for about the first day. After that, I tired quickly of horses and horse talk.
    And that was another thing. All this talk was out in the open where everyone could hear. They had no sense of modesty or privacy that I could see. I'd had one rider come up and start to discuss the state of his bowels without a qualm, in the middle of a moving mass of warriors. You couldn't really talk to anyone without being overheard.
    Ahead of us there was a shout. I peered around Prest's shoulders to see one warrior launch himself at another, carrying him to the ground. The horses shied and shifted a bit, but everyone just kept moving as the two rolled on the ground, fighting. Their horses had moved off, to eat grass as their human riders resolved their differences.
    Which was another thing. These people had such fiery tempers and they had no hesitation of attacking for any slight. It was only the exchange of a token that allowed safety for the speaker of offensive words. In Xy, challenge was made clear, with a chance to prepare. Not with these people.
    So here I was, Warprize to the Warlord of the Plains, acclaimed before my people and his, praised and admired for my willingness to journey to a new and strange place, to be a bridge between his people and mine. What would they think, to find out that I was sick to my stomach, hungry, exhausted, dirty, alone and certain that the Warlord had lost interest in me?
    I heaved a sigh, and tried to tell myself that I was being a soft city woman. That I had no right to complain over minor problems like this. That I was being foolish.
    My stomach rolled over, and I focused my eyes off to the side, on the trees in the distance, and tried very hard not to cry.
    Joden was broader than Prest, but not so tall. Once I was behind him, I propped my chin on his shoulder and looked ahead, which would help settle my stomach. Eventually.
    "You look unwell, Warprize. Are you pregnant?"
    Goddess, was every Firelander going to ask me that? "No," I spoke, my tongue sharper than I intended. "I am fine, Joden."
    He was silent for a moment, then shook his head. "No, something troubles you, Warprize." Joden's deep voice seemed to resonate through his chest and right into my bones. I sighed. This was the man who had helped me before, by explaining the meaning of my title. Perhaps he could help me again. "Joden, words spoken to a Singer are private, right?" Joden turned his head, trying to see my face. "Yes, if told to a true Singer under the sky. You need to confide, Lara? Something private?"
    I nodded. "Just between us. You wouldn't tell anyone?"
    He turned the other way, digging in the pocket of his saddle bag. "I am not yet a full Singer, Lara. But words