precise.
“They will leave a scar,” Yasmin said. “But from what I’ve seen of you so far, it already has plenty of company.”
Tristan laughed, then pointed to the wooden box of healer’s tools. “How did you know those things would be here?” he asked.
“This wagon is mine,” Yasmin answered.
Without further ado, she closed the box and put it away. Coming closer, she looked into his eyes and placed her hands onto his chest. As she stared at him, her normally predatory gaze softened into something more curious than commanding.
“Tell me, Jin’Sai, ” she said. “Do you keep a woman of your own at the palace?”
Startled by her frankness, Tristan took a quick breath. He started to answer her, then he stopped. Instead, he reached up to wipe a dirt smudge from one of her cheeks.
“Where did you hear the phrase,‘Jin’Sai’?” he asked.
“From your flying warriors,” she answered. “But you’re avoiding the question.”
Remembering Celeste, Tristan looked at the ground. “It’s a rather long story, you see, and I-”
“There you are, dango!” they suddenly heard Rafe’s voice call out. “Leave it to you to be tended to by the camp’s most beautiful woman!”
Tristan and Yasmin watched Rafe and Balthazar walk up. They were each holding atachinga jug. Balthazar looked rather drunk. Rafe offered his jug to Tristan.
Smiling, the prince took it, then swallowed a long gulp, followed by another. After wiping his mouth, he gave Rafe a compassionate look.
“I am sorry about Casimir,” he said. “I’m sure he was a good man.”
Rafe’s face darkened. “He was,” he answered. “I am also sorry to see him gone. But in the end, his death served a noble purpose. We have taken a Zorian body count. By the looks of it, they came at us with every fighter they had. All but a few are dead. The Zorian threat is no more.”
“There are Zorian survivors?” Tristan asked.
Just then a terrible scream rang out across the clearing. It slowly faded away, to be replaced by outright begging. Tristan immediately understood that the Zorian survivors were being tortured to death. He was about to protest when Yasmin’s eyes caught his. She gave him a nearly imperceptible shake of her head. Understanding, he took a deep breath and resolved not to speak of it. Highlander business, he realized. He looked back at Rafe.
“What are your losses?” he asked.
Rafe shook his head. “They are very bad,” he answered. “Perhaps the worst ever suffered by our clan in one fight. More than half of our wagons are gone. And with them went many supplies, provisions, horses, and other livestock. More than one quarter of my men are dead, and several dozen more are wounded. The Zorian cowards struck down many of our women, elderly, and children. Two of the twelve council members are also dead. But we will somehow go on. We always do.”
Taking Rafe by one arm, Tristan pulled him nearer. “Then it is even more important that you and your council consider my offer,” he said. “After what happened tonight, we need each other more than ever. At the very least, come with me to Tammerland and let me resupply you with some of the things that you lost. I know nothing can make up for the death of your people. But you owe it to your survivors to take me up on at least that much.”
Rafe put one hand on Tristan’s shoulder. “I know,” he said softly. “To a great extent, we owe you and your warriors our lives. That’s why I have called for an emergency elders’ meeting to discuss your proposal.”
“When?” Tristan asked.
“Now,” Rafe answered.
“So soon after tonight’s calamity?” Tristan asked.
Rafe took back his jug and swallowed more of the potenttachinga. “Can you think of a better time?” he asked back.
Smiling, Tristan shook his head. “No,” he answered. “I suppose not.”
Balthazar walked up to face the prince. After taking another enormous gulp, he belched loudly. Tristan smiled. The massive highlander would make a good drinking partner for Ox, he realized. Balthazar gave Tristan a crooked smile, showing the absence of several teeth. Leaning in, he poked an index finger into Tristan’s chest.
“You fight well for adango!” he said. Closing his eyes, he belched again, this time nearly dropping his jug. “Maybe we won’t ransom your scrawny arse after all!”
“Come, all of you,” Rafe said. “The meeting will start soon. Then we will see what we will see.” He gave Tristan a wary glance. “But I warn you-the elders can be a very uncompromising lot,” he added.
Wondering what the rest of the night would bring, Tristan started accompanying Rafe, Balthazar, and Yasmin across the moonlit clearing.
CHAPTER XXXIX
BY THE TIME TRISTAN, YASMIN, RAFE, AND BALTHAZARreached the camp’s meeting place, many highlander onlookers had already arrived. Tristan quickly realized that these meetings must be public affairs.
Like in the camp clearing, a large bonfire burned. An iron tripod stood over the bonfire’s flames, and a black pot hung from the tripod’s apex. A strange white fog billowed from the pot’s lip, its clouds disappearing as they drifted gently down.
Some of the surviving wagons had been wheeled to this place. Thirteen chairs, each upholstered in red velvet, stood in a nearby circle. Ten elders sat waiting while three of the chairs remained vacant. It was obvious that news of Tristan’s proposal was filtering through the camp, because more curious highlanders were arriving by the moment. Although many were tired and bloodied, they seemed highly interested in this stranger who had killed their enemies as if they had been his own.
Walking toward the circle of chairs, Rafe bade Tristan to follow him. Before Tristan went, Yasmin touched him on the arm.
“Good luck,” she whispered. “The elders are stern, but wise. State your case strongly, then be quiet unless spoken to. You are still adango, after all.”
After nodding back, Tristan walked to join Rafe. The chieftain indicated that Tristan should sit. Before doing so, the prince thought for a moment. As a gesture of goodwill he unbuckled his baldric and quiver, then laid his weapons in the dewy grass. Only then did he take his seat.
As she watched, Yasmin sensed a familiar presence arrive by her side. She looked over to see Sonya, one of her sisters who had danced with her. Sonya gave Yasmin a coy look, then turned her attention back to the prince as he sat waiting for the meeting to start.
“You have eyes for him,” Sonya whispered conspiratorially. “I can tell! Tell me-is he as clever as he is handsome?” She ran her gaze over Tristan, then looked back at her sister. “Does he have brothers in Tammerland?” she whispered eagerly.
Scowling, Yasmin turned to glare at Sonya. “Be still, you harpy!” she admonished her. “I wish to listen!” Smiling, Sonya returned her gaze to the meeting.
Tristan looked politely at the council elders. “Elder” was an apt word, he realized. Each of the surviving five men and five women had to be at least seventy Seasons of New Life, perhaps older. Several of the men had long white beards. The women’s hair was equally white, and their faces were deeply creased by decades of hard nomadic life. But regardless of their gender, each clan elder looked commanding. These were people who would not be easily swayed, Tristan realized.
Without ceremony, one of the male elders started speaking in the clan’s secret language. He spoke for some time, then finally went quiet. After looking over at Tristan, Rafe came to his feet. He bowed to the man who had spoken.
“I understand, Gunther,” he said. He then turned to look at the crowd. “To all those present this night, I suggest that we speak only Eutracian. Thisdango has risked his life for us. It seems only right that he understands what we say.”
After conferring with the other elders, Gunther nodded. “Very well,” he said. “You may tell us what thedango
