“Except for the fact that everyone seems to think that you have brought a viper into your tent,” Snowfall said. “Or that I have betrayed all that the Plains stands for by giving you my oaths.”
“Well, that is true,” Simus said cheerfully. “Did you see Wyrik of the Boar’s face? I thought he’d have a brain storm. Too bad he didn’t.” Simus frowned. “I wonder if that healer can treat those?”
“Simus.” Joden rubbed his face with one hand. “I don’t think you are taking this seriously.”
“You thought this would be easy?” Simus grew serious. “You thought everyone would smile and nod and welcome this?” He shook his head. “No. As Keir has said, we are weaving new patterns.” Simus flashed them a grin. “Patterns he doesn’t even know of yet. This will not be easy. My token will most likely wear out before I am even recognized as Warlord.” He looked at the poor, bedraggled thing, its feathers slightly worse for wear.
“I need more kavage,” Joden said, taking up his mug.
Snowfall nodded, and slipped from the area.
“What other choice is there?” Simus lowered his voice. “Keir’s plan was to break their hold on our people, and then unite the Plains under a WarKing to find a better way.” He gestured toward where they could hear the clatter of kavage pots. “They have broken themselves. So now it seems to me, my choice is to ignore the outstreched hand, or reach out and take it.”
“I think that Keir would reject that hand,” Joden said carefully.
Simus slowly nodded his head in agreement. “You are probably right.” He looked at his friend. “Do you think I am wrong?” he asked, almost dreading the answer.
Joden drew in a heavy sigh. “Maybe,” he said, then countered with, “What do you think Keir will do when Eloix arrives with your message?”
“I do not know,” Simus said.
“Have you thought of sending another in light of all this?” Joden asked.
Snowfall slipped back into the room, fresh kavage in her hands.
“Yes,” Simus snorted. “But I need people I trust near me, even when they tell me I am wrong. And yes, I thought of sending you back, but the need for you is here, not there.” He narrowed his eyes at Joden. “Were you avoiding Essa?”
“No,” Joden said shortly.
“Have you talked to Essa?”
“No,” Joden said, his voice still clipped.
“Ah,” Simus said. At the look on Joden’s face, he decided not to press the issue.
Snowfall started to straighten the gurtle pads, moving around the area with a gentle grace.
“Enough serious thoughts,” Simus said, and laughed. “Come,” he said, addressing them both with one expansive gesture. “There is dancing tonight. We will chant and dance patterns and exhaust the opposition. The morning will bring what the morning will bring. For tonight, we dance.”
Snowfall looked at him as if surprised he would include her. She shook her head. “Warrior-priestesses do not dance.”
There was a hidden sadness in her words that made Simus stop and think. Warrior-priests were isolated from warriors, maintaining their own camps. But not to dance? Another mystery in the depths of her eyes, and he wanted answers.
“You must,” Simus insisted, putting a hand to his chest with a flourish. “You are my Token-bearer; you must come. If only to watch me.”
“To watch,” she agreed. “Just let me check on the servers in the back, that all is done properly.”
“And then perhaps tonight, we could share our bodies,” Simus suggested as she walked away. “If only to celebrate.”
Snowfall paused, and looked at him with her calm, grey eyes. “No,” she said.
Joden choked on his kavage.
“What?” Simus said.
“No,” she repeated calmly. “It would complicate things.”
And with that, she disappeared into the back.
