Simus would have protested, but Ultie raised a hand and stopped his words. “Essa, who do you think sent warriors and warrior-priests after you?” Ultie asked.
“I have no proof,” Essa said, shrugging. “But Antas seems likely.”
“I doubt that Antas will appear here,” Ultie said. “Too many hold his actions against him. You are here now. You can call the Council of Elders together. Reness will arrive at the last moment; she always does. Nires is here, who was named Eldest Elder Warrior to replace Antas.”
“That was a temporary measure for the Outcasting.” Essa frowned. “And that needs doing as well. It’s the warriors gathered that will name the next Eldest Elder Warrior.” He sighed. “It’s complicated.”
“No,” Ultie said. “It’s simple. You will shelter here with me for a time, regain your strength. You will sing at the dances, and replenish your gear. You will gather the Singers and would-be Singers to you, and then you will sort things out.”
Essa gave him an exasperated look. “Ultie, it’s not that easy.”
“Yes, it is.” Ultie reached over and plucked the brooch off Essa’s knee and tossed it to Simus. “We thank you for your truths.”
A clear and simple dismissal.
The spicy gurtlemeat didn’t sit easy as Simus made his way back toward his camp.
The sun was lower now, the camps finishing their challenges and meals, and preparing the night’s dancing. The scents of fry bread and kavage floated on the air, along with various bits of talk. Simus ignored it all as he strode along, thinking on Essa’s words. Dreading having to tell Joden of this talk.
And as if he’d heard Simus’s thought, Joden appeared beside him as he walked, matching him step-for-step, his broad face smiling. “You look as if you are planning a battle. Why so grim?”
“Later,” Simus muttered. “And under the bells.”
Joden glanced at him, but thankfully didn’t press. “You missed a good match,” he said. “Osa was challenged by a warrior barely out of the thea camp.” He laughed. “He challenged with sword and shield. Osa chose her whip.”
“And the arrogant pup cowered behind that shield most of the fight?” Simus asked.
“For all of a few breaths,” Joden snickered. “First time he lifted his head to see where she was, she lashed out and caught his forehead. He stood there, blinking through the blood, like a dazed ehat. An easy enough challenge to judge, that is certain.”
Simus tried to laugh at the image, but it sounded forced even to his ears.
It was muchlater that night and far too soon for Simus when he found himself alone with Joden again. They sat together in his tent, after the dancing had ended and the camp had gone quiet. Joden sat across from him, with a pitcher of hot kavage between them and bells woven into the tent flap ties.
“What troubles you so?” Joden asked, pouring kavage for both of them.
Simus played with the cat brooch between them, the light from the glowing braziers glinting off its shiny black surface.
Joden waited, as patient as always.
Simus heaved a sigh, and told him.
Joden listened, truly listened, until Simus ran out of words and reassurances. The silence seemed to echo around him as he took in Joden’s face. “You’re not surprised,” Simus said, rubbing his thigh, feeling the scar even through the leather.
“Are you?” Joden asked mildly. “I made my decisions in the moment,” he continued. “And they were my honest choices. I would not call them back.” He gestured toward Simus’s thigh. “Any of them. I spoke my truth as I saw them at the time, and admitted my mistakes when I saw the flaw in my truth. But that doesn’t mean there won’t be consequences for me.”
Simus stirred, frowning. “But you were punished for it, back in Xy.”
Joden rolled his eyes. “Being asked to sing of my decision not to grant you mercy is not a true punishment, Simus.”
“But you will sing of it,” Simus pressed.
“I will,” Joden nodded.
“I do not like to think my life has come at a cost to you,” Simus growled feeling the press of guilt. “That you might not become a Singer because—”
“Simus, did Essa refuse to consider me as a candidate for Singer?” Joden asked.
“No,” Simus said slowly.
