Simus of the Hawk had no caution. He needed protection; needed someone to watch his back. Destal was not the one to do this. What would happen if he failed in this? How could the Plains unify under the Council of Elders if the fool got himself—
The pounding of feet came at her and children ran past her, heedless of the tall grasses and established paths.
Snowfall hunched down.
The Heart was becoming too crowded, too difficult to travel even hidden. And now, with a thea camp added, well...
She needed to retreat to her camp, but it would be best if she waited until the camp had settled and the sun was a bit further behind the horizon. She’d plenty to think on in the meantime.
“Look deeper,” Wild Winds had said, and as was almost always the case, her master...her former master was right. There was more there than pomp and arrogance.
He’d impressed her when he’d treated those young warriors with dignity, taking their oaths seriously, and welcoming them into his service.
He’d impressed her more when the horses had arrived loaded with supplies—and those saddles. Skies above, Snowfall had never seen a new saddle before, only those looted or stolen at war. Certainly, she’d never had one. The warrior-priests took the best for themselves and the leavings were for those in training. But Simus hadn’t even blinked at new weapons, new saddles, and ordered them distributed to his people based on their needs.
She had not expected such fairness from him.
Voices were raised, calling the children to order, and back to their tents. Snowfall didn’t move; patience was a form of protection in and of itself.
There was one more thing about Simus, and this one made Snowfall chew her lip and wish she could contact Wild Winds to talk of it with him.
Simus of the Hawk had mourned a city-dweller.
She would not have believed it if she hadn’t followed him, and seen with her own eyes. His words, his prayer, his tears all spoke of a great truth, that he had lost a friend.
A city-dweller.
Snowfall shivered, and then forced herself to concentrate on her power, flowing into the veil that kept her hidden.
If Simus could mourn someone so different than a warrior of the Plains, then maybe...maybe he would listen to a warrior-priestess. Or whatever she was now.
Snowfall swallowed hard and shoved the thought away. She didn’t even know herself, and that was terrifying and exciting at the same time and in the same breath.
The area around her was clear enough. She started to crawl off, taking care to keep herself concealed.
Time to prepare. She’d sharpen her knives, see to her meal and her rest, and then when dawn came—
Let it be as the elements willed.
“So you broughtyour thea camp to the Heart?” Simus asked again after they had settled within his tent, kavage and gurt all around. Haya had told them of her hostile encounter with Antas of the Boar. Weaponsmaster Seo had joined them, as had a Singer, one Quartis by name. Yers settled on a gurtle pad, eyeing Haya warily. Joden sat next to Simus, as silent as Simus had ever seen him.
“I have,” Haya said.
“The entire camp?”
“All,” Haya confirmed calmly. “Down to the last newborn and gurtle in our herds.”
“This is not wise, Haya,” Simus said, feeling like he was pointing out the obvious. “Live children around live steel? It is asking for trouble.”
“Wise enough, young one, to take the action I must to protect what I have sworn to shelter.”
“But I can’t offer—”
“You can and you will.” Haya held up her mug for more kavage. Destal moved hastily to fill it. “For isn’t that the truth of your message? That you and Keir will protect the children? Provide a better future for them?”
“I—” Simus had no answer for that. “The thea camps have always protected themselves well enough.”
“Do not challenge your thea’s decision,” Seo growled.
