Warsworn

that the poor man had nearly fainted during the 'dictation'.
    I was pleased to read Eln's letter that Atira's broken leg was mending, and that she had demonstrated the 'drumming' technique for him. He'd used it successfully on his patients, and had been pleased with the results. Of course, he was still searching for an herbal cure to combat what he called the Savage Sweat, but he'd no new patients to try it on. I sensed a degree of regret in his words, but I sent up a brief prayer of thanks to the Goddess for the lack. Both Othur and Eln told me not to return to Water's Fall. There was nothing I could do to make a difference there, and my Council wanted me to secure my position on the Plains. Keir called an evening senel to discuss the combats and the chess tourney. This one was far more comfortable, with the warleaders more relaxed. Even these experienced warriors had succumbed to the lure of chess, and I could hear a few muttered moves being exchanged as they entered the tent. Ortis had the gleeful look of a man who'd just achieved a checkmate. Marcus had help with the serving, and was determined to do well by this meeting. There was kavage and fry bread and mutton stew with gurt melted over the tops of the bowls. The stew was good, but I discreetly pushed the melted gurt off to the side.
    Once everyone had eaten their fill, more kavage was poured and Keir opened by asking for suggestions for the combats. Elimination rounds were quickly organized and a schedule set up so that everyone could watch some portion. It was embarrassing that guarding me was a coveted position, but I could see that this was important to everyone's spirits so I endured in silence.
    Sal was there, looking much better. Her recovery was going well. Tsor had lost quite a bit of flesh, as the fever had burned it off of him. Marcus gave him two servings of stew with extra gurt, which he quickly devoured.
    Iften was present, as was required. I noticed that he was eating with his offhand. He was acting as if all was well, but he couldn't fool me. He'd worn a long sleeved tunic, with leather bracers on his forearms. While he managed to avoid my gaze, I could tell that the fingers were swollen. Goddess only knew what the arm looked like. He'd been fairly quiet of late, and spoke only when Keir asked him a direct question. Keir was instructing Yers to supervise the combats, and while there were a few side glances at Iften, no one made any comment. I stared down at my plate. What would happen to Iften if his arm didn't heal? I glanced over to where Marcus was pouring kavage for Keir. Marcus's injury was not crippling as I defined it, even if the loss of his eye meant he couldn't fight. He'd certainly proved his worth when he'd saved me from my half-brother's blade. But his position was only secured by Keir's support. If Iften's sword arm went numb, and his fingers curled into a useless claw, what would he do? Kill himself?
    I took a bite, and chewed thoughtfully.
    Keir looked over at me with a smile. "Once the combats are done, and a new guard selected, we will start the chess tourney. This too, will be stretched over a period of days." Aret stood. "Warlord, I have a suggestion."
    "Speak."
    "These games will not be easily seen by a large number of people. I propose a living chess board, with warriors taking the roles of the various pieces. So all may see and enjoy, even at a distance."
    There were many grins at the plan, and Keir nodded in approval. "I like that well, Aret. In fact, once we are down to eight players on the field of wood, let us begin the living boards. Aret, it's your idea. You may direct it as you will."
    Aret grinned.
    Keir drew a deep breath. "Our dead ride with us until the snows, but the living carry burdens of pain and sorrow. As the day of our departure grows closer, I would call for a mourning ceremony, for we have much to grieve. Joden, I would ask that you plan the ceremony, and sing for our dead."
    Joden sat, hands on his knees, his head bowed. I swallowed hard at the sight. Keir leaned forward. "This has nothing to do with what lies between us, Joden. Only with singing the dead on their way."
    We sat in silence for what seemed like forever before Joden spoke without lifting his head.
    "There are many dead to sing for."
    "There are." Keir's voice was quiet but firm.
    There was another long silence as Joden studied his feet. I shifted on my stump. "Will there be a pattern dance?" I'd loved the patterns I'd seen danced before.