She smiled politely as the Binse stood to leave. Socair idled near her seat, hoping not to have to be within earshot of what was no doubt an impolite discussion about her disrespectful behavior. She let her eyes wander around the room. It was as plush as any other in the Bastion, lined with velvets and deep reds. Showy and unnecessary. It was as though the place were built to make her uncomfortable and she’d been locked in it now for an entire season.
Socair sighed and moved for the door. The Treorai had lingered there and put a hand on her shoulder as she passed.
“It will be alright, Socair.”
Socair forced a smile and thanked her. The dark, angular stone of the interior walls calmed her somewhat as she made her way to the quarters to which she had been assigned. That, at least, was not so different from how her life had been before Crosta. She’d hardly had time to convince herself that there was good reason to name her a Bearer and now she was a Binse. The responsibility made her sick some nights, though she wasn’t apt to admit as much to anyone.
The door to her quarters was plain enough in the face of the excess of the rest of the castle. She pushed it open and felt a small bit of relief to see Práta writing at her desk on the far side of the room. It was more than spacious enough for the two of them. They had offered a private room to Práta but the idea had terrified Socair. She hadn’t spoken the feeling but it must have been plain enough as Práta refused. Or perhaps she wanted the same thing. It was a troubling way to be, Socair knew. She had never felt herself to be in need of attention but the lack of it was something that stirred a deep upset in her mind. She couldn’t say now whether she had always been that way. It seemed like she had, but when she brought forth memories of the time before Silín and Doiléir had been taken from her, she recalled many nights spent alone when the situation required. Now the memories filled her with some non-specific sense of unease.
The room contained only a pair of desks and a large bed. A thick pair of curtains in light grey were over the tall window at the far side of the room, but that was truly the end of the decoration. Práta rose at the sound of the door opening and came to greet Socair.
“I trust they heard your concerns with open minds.” Práta’s soft voice and honest nature made her ill-suited to sarcasm, but Socair couldn’t help but smile at the attempt.
Socair walked in and laid a hand on Práta’s stomach as she passed, unbuttoning the top of her stiff jacket with the other. Práta moved to the door after she passed and shut it gently.
“They are as stubborn as the bunch that came before them. Not a one among them has seen so much as a written report of the things the hippocamps have done.” She sucked in a deep breath to calm herself. “But, it matters little. I will do what I must and prepare where I am able. Let the Sisters take their ledgers.”
Práta held out a hand and Socair dropped the jacket into it. The smaller elf set about hanging and straightening the jacket. Socair sat herself on the bed.
“Deifir is as passive as ever. She will not disparage the nobles any more than she will me, but neither will she support my claims.”
Práta ran her hands down the jacket and turned.
“The Treorai knows that you are the final word on those matters. You are the only one among the Binse that she allows that privilege and that speaks more loudly than any protest she might make.”
Socair huffed. She knew it was true but it made the annoyance of the Binse and their complaints all the more frustrating. Práta moved to her and placed a cool hand across her cheek.
There was a light knock at the door. Práta pulled her hand away and moved to answer it. She pulled the latch.
“Oh!” Práta bowed quickly and pulled the door open.
Deifir seemed to glide into the room. Socair wasn’t sure what to make of the woman’s elegance. She at once envied it and hated the idea of it. Was it something that showed her as incapable of force? Socair knew better than to believe that. She realized she had fixated on Deifir’s feet a bit too long when she saw the Treorai dip at the knee.
Socair raised her eyes immediately and blushed when they caught Deifir’s. She had made the Treorai squat to catch her attention.
“You worry a bit too much, Socair.” Deifir smiled politely.
Práta closed the door and moved to Socair’s side, bowing again when she arrived.
“Shall I give you privacy?” Práta asked.
“No, this concerns you as well.”
Socair raised an eyebrow at that. Práta? She had been officially considered an assistant to Socair but still held no title in the Bastion City. Deifir was curiously silent for a moment. It was a strange statement which begged information but Socair could not decide what question would even be the one to ask.
“I have read each of the reports you have sent to me. I have read them more times than any of them required, thorough as they were.” She paused after the statement, but only briefly. “You are convinced that the horsefolk will not wait out the cold season as they have before?”
Socair frowned at the directness of the statement. “I’m afraid I cannot say with any certainty what they will do, Deifir. There is much we do not know though the danger is real, as I’ve detailed in my writings. We are at our most vulnerable during Bais. It has been a blessing that the same seems to be true of the hippocamps but I fear this may not
