“So could I.” He whispered back. “Sometimes, I think of us taking two horses and riding away, as far and as fast as we can.”

Surprised, I studied his face. He returned the look steadily. “We could run, Lara. Far and fast and free, with only the skies as a witness. We’d have each other, no worries beyond our own needs, no burdens, no—”

“No Iftens?”

“No Iftens.” He growled. “It would be perfect.”

“It would be.”

He heaved a sigh, and we lay in silence for some time, until I shifted slightly and spoke into his ear. “But that is not who you are, Keir of the Cat, Warlord of the Plains.”

I felt his head move, nodding his agreement. “It is not who you are either, Xylara, Daughter of Xy and Master Healer.”

I nodded, but stayed silent.

“Now, Marcus will be worried.” Keir smiled ruefully. “If I could, I would rise from this pallet, sweep you up and carry you to the command tent. But I fear that if I try, I will fall and take you with me.”

I smiled through my tears. “Let us lean on each other, then.”

From what I could tell, ‘purification’ was just another way of saying ‘clean everything’. Everything in camp was cleaned to even Anna’s exacting standards. Tents were shifted to new ground, and even the horses were washed. If it couldn’t be washed or boiled, it was burnished or polished, until the entire camp glowed. Braziers were set up at central points, and something called star-grass was burned to cleanse the air and the spirits. It made me sneeze.

This took a great deal of time and effort. At first the warriors moved slowly, almost all recovering from the illness. But as days passed, their strength and spirits started to rebuild. Keir reached the point where he could walk through his warriors again, and it wasn’t long before he was moving about with his old confidence.

Meara too, made an enormous difference in the camp.

She of the melting brown eyes and dark lashes, had each and every warrior wrapped around her little finger. I didn’t see much of her, as she was being passed from warrior to warrior, each acting as thea for a part of the day. At first I was concerned, but when I made a point of checking on her regularly, she was always smiling, waving her arms and legs in the air from her basket. She thrived and her presence raised the spirits of everyone around her. After the purification, almost everyone had regained their normal strength, but the planned contests had everyone pushing harder to get into the best condition possible. The camp rang with the sound of sparring weapons clashing, and the grunts of fighting warriors. Keir participated as well, claiming the need for practice. But as far as I could see, he was in excellent condition. I loved to watch him in the practice circles, as graceful as the cat he was named for. He seemed to enjoy that I watched him every chance I got, and yet all was not the same between us. Although he seemed fully recovered, Keir had made no move to resume our … physical relationship. I wasn’t too worried, since he was still mending, and yet…

The other sound that rang through the camp was the constant sound of warriors announcing their chess moves to one another. Everyone was determined to enter the tourney and win the honor of champion. I had quite a few visitors to my stilltent, with vague complaints of stomach troubles and sly questions about chess strategies. I cheerfully answered their inquiries, dosed them with my worst-smelling, foulest-tasting flux remedy and sent them on their way.

There were very few repeat visitors.

More letters arrived from Water’s Fall, with reassur-ances of the conditions in the city. Othur continued to complain of Simus’s behavior, but now he mentioned additional problems with the Lords, including some border disputes that he felt would never be resolved without bloodshed. Which told me that things were fairly normal within the Kingdom of Xy.

Simus demanded, rather loudly in his missives, that we give him all the details of events and that more kavage be sent. He also gave some rather pithy details of his sexual adventures. I could barely contain my laughter at the sight of the scribe’s handwriting. I was certain sure 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.