That night, as Jon leaned against the hearth, he concluded his uncertainty.
"Thayet." She was reading across the room. "Warren is the one. I know it. I can feel it."
She stared at him in disbelief. "Jon! He's only ten years old! You must be joking. There's no way young Warren, a parentless street boy, could become the Voice of the Tribes. You have to possess a certain amount of flexibility, responsibility, leadership, and sanity, in great amounts!" She closed her book with a snap, angered that her husband would assume a young boy could take on such a role.
Jonathan sighed. "He possesses those things, and more. He also has a wonderful ability to learn and understand." He looked into the fire, staring at the flames. They grew hungrily, each blaze clamoring to rise above the others. The fire's glow illuminated his face in almost a ghastly sense. Every line and crease made his face appear shadowed and etched.
In the glare Jon started to see an image. The longer he looked, the clearer it became. "Thayet, come here," he whispered, barely moving his lips for fear of disturbing to picture. She hurried forward and peered into the hearth.
"Jon, what has gotten into you? There's nothing there--"
He silenced her with a wave of his hand. As he began to comprehend the image in the fire, he leaned in closer. The light played over his features and the heat threatened to stave him off, but he dared not blink. Jon could see it now, clear as anything.
-The picture in the fire was of Jon and Warren. They both rode into the desert as the sun sank behind the dunes. The tents of the Bloody Hawk tribe were in view. Jon looked over at Warren, and saw the boy draw himself up in the saddle. His dark eyes flashed with pride and importance. Soon, everyone from the tribe was kneeling in the sand before the two riders. Jonathan saw Warren glowing with the magic of the desert. In one low rumble, every Bazhir present hailed them: "The Voice."
With the light and Warren's expression, it made the boy look many years older. "My people," he replied.-
The image disappeared.
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The next morning Jon introduced Warren to Roald. The prince's sapphire eyes were friendly, Warren's hazel eyes calculating, as they shook hands. Finally Warren smiled.
"Let's play a game," he suggested.
After a little debate, the two young boys settled on a battle game, consisting of there being two "sides." On each team would consist of five boys. If you were tackled by a member of the other team, you were their prisoner. The point of the game was to try and capture the other team's base, which was located on their "side."
"We can each be leaders of the teams," Roald explained.
They went to Fort Pit, a hideout for the noble boys of the area. Most were about Roald and Warren's age. After they explained the game, all of the boys were eager to play.
"Alright, Warren, pick your first soldier."
Warren looked at the boys, his intelligent eyes resting on each one, judging them. "I pick…Orrek."
The tall blond boy smiled and strode over to Warren's side. Roald picked redheaded Jaklyn. Warren then commenced to choose Gambis, Dylan, and Tylor. Roald chose Reem, Hilis (Gambis's twin brother), and Nells.
They set up the game in the woods next to Fort Pit. The border between the two sides was a small stream. The only other boundary was where the forest stopped, facing the palace.
Warren brought his team deep into their side. For their base, he chose an outcrop of rocks, surrounded by young saplings. He instructed Tylor to run up their banner; it happened to be Gambis's handkerchief.
"Alright men," he said seriously. "We have to have a plan. Dylan, you can be the div-div…"
"Diversion?" Orrek interceded.
"Yes, that. Tylor, you're the scout. Me and Gambis and Orrek will charge their base. Ready? Go!"
The five boys streamed out of their base. Dylan immediately ran off towards the stream. Tylor made his way to where the stream bent , and climbed a tree.
"I see it!" he mouthed. "Over that way!" he pointed into a corner of the mock-battlefield, then disappeared into the foliage.
Orrek, Warren, and Gambis waded stealthily across the stream, but were immediately spotted by Reem. Hilis and Nells popped out from behind a tree and charged at Warren's group. Brown-haired Nells launched himself into the air at Gambis. Gambis froze in place, eyes wide, stuck in the middle of the stream.
Orrek jumped forward and knocked Nells down. Nells fell into the stream with a splash, totally immersed in the cold water. Smiling, Orrek placed a foot on his back, claiming him as a prisoner. As Gambis and Warren warded off the enemies, Orrek pulled his prisoner back to their prison.
Hilis and Reem surrounded Warren. Gambis was trying to inch away, intent on finding the base. To their right, Warren heard Jaklyn and Roald pursuing Dylan.
"We've got you now, Warren!" Reem taunted.
Warren feinted an escape to the left, the quickly tackled Reem. Before Hilis had time to react, Warren spun around, and Hilis quickly found himself laying half-in and half-out of the water. A shrill whistle from Warren brought Tylor out of the tree to his aid. A smirking Tylor hauled off the two prisoners as Orrek returned.
"Now," said Orrek, blowing a lock of air out of his eyes, "Just Jaklyn and the Prince."
Warren nodded gravely. Over Orrek's shoulder he saw Dylan approaching them.
"They went back to their fort," Dylan said breathlessly when he was close enough.
"Alright, split up," Warren commanded. "Dylan, you go left. Orrek, right. Tylor," he called to Tylor, who was just walking back, "you go with Dylan." The three nodded agreement.
Warren crawled to a place behind a bush viewing where Tylor said Roald's fort was. He peeked over a branch just in time to see Gambis being hauled off towards prison, a small cut adorning one of his cheeks. Once in place, Warren imitated a Jay's call, indicating a charge. With a cry of victory, the remnants of his team sprang upon Roald and Jaklyn. Their adversary immediately surrendered, bowing down to Warren's superior force. As Tylor clambered up the tree that held Roald's banner and replaced it with their own, no one saw the King slip away from his post by the stream.
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Warren and Roald returned from the woods excursion laughing and out of breath. After they cleaned up, they went to supper together, and Warren sat next to his new friend during the meal. Afterwards, Roald approached his father.
"Father? Can Warren sleep in my room tonight?" He asked hopefully.
"Sorry, Roald. Not tonight. There are some things I need to teach Warren."
With a disappointed glance at the King, Roald bowed and left. Warren, however, stayed.
"What lessons, sir?" he asked quietly.
"Warren, remember when mentioned the Voice of the Tribes?" Warren nodded. "Those lessons," explained Jon. "You have to learn the Bazhir laws and customs."