“Are we leaving? Where will we go?”
Socair stopped and knelt, her brow furrowed as she searched for the best way to speak. “Práta and I are going south after the Treorai. It is dangerous there and you cannot—”
“No!” Nath screamed and yanked away, turning when she had put some distance between the two. “I will be taken while you are gone! They will beat me! And you should not be alone with Práta! She says things when you are not here. Cruel things. About you as well!”
Socair took a slow breath and steadied her mind. “Nath, do not say such things. You are upset, I can see that, but you cannot be this way. Others may not be so patient. I will listen to you, Nath. You are a woman grown.”
“I do not wish to be apart from you.”
“There are times when that will be the case, Nath. I have duties where you cannot attend. And you are no fighter.”
“I am not stupid, Socair. I know there are places I cannot follow. But can I not attend you in the south? Could I be of no use to you?” Nath’s eyes glistened with ready tears and Socair could see the desperation in the girl.
“Fine. You may come south. But you must stay in the keeps or safe houses. If you will keep clear of trouble, you may accompany us.”
“I will keep to your bunk and cause you no trouble I swear it.” Her mood had changed near instantly. The tears were gone and a bright smile had replaced any trace of sadness or fear.
Socair frowned just the slightest bit, worried that she would delay the girl’s help any further. She knew well enough that she was not suited to the job herself. She was far too soft and could no more mend a broken mind than a broken leg. It took discipline in the face of pain and heartache, a thing Socair understood but lacked.
There would be time enough for lamenting her missteps as they rode, she decided, and took to the bed to change. Nath came behind her and assisted Socair in untying the clothes she had bothered to wear out of Deifir’s room. As she dressed, Nath took the dirtied clothes away to a hamper. As it opened, Socair noticed some clothes in it that she did not recognize. They were a color that Práta never wore and seemed to have been ripped. Socair ignored them and dressed. It was unlikely that they would meet horsefolk along the roads, but she wore her brigandine and thick leather trousers anyway. A ride without them felt as though it somehow invited the unlikely.
Práta came a few moments later with sausage and boiled potatoes. A simple lunch, but it would sit well in their stomachs and keep them sated for much of the ride. She had brought a portion for Nath as well.
“We will need horses,” Socair said between bites.
“The stable ought to have a couple left, even with the soldiers.”
“Hopefully three that can make the trip without trouble.”
“Three?” Práta’s voice shifted from curious to annoyed in the space of the word. She looked at Nath and back to Socair. “You cannot mean we are taking this child.”
Nath made a noise that was more growl than whine. Socair held her hand up.
“Enough, both of you. Práta, I have made my decision, I will be responsible for it. She needs no more antagonism. And she is no child.”
Práta drew a deep breath, but held her tongue and went back to her meal. Nath watched her closely until Práta took the plates to remove them when the food was done.
That was the end to their bickering, though it had been replaced by a strained silence that did no favors to Socair’s current state of mind. She could hardly concentrate as it was and now there were complications she saw no way of resolving. She wished that she could simply put them out of her mind but her thoughts still worked to find a solution to that and to the mysteries of Deifir’s actions. She had her path, that at least gave her a way forward and she was grateful to Práta for reminding her of it, but a path simply took her where she ought to go. It did not solve the problems that waited for her there.
Nath and Práta saw to the rest of the packing. The wait saw Socair pacing in the room until Práta sent her to the hall, claiming she would go mad as well if she were forced to watch Socair do nothing but walk a rut in the floor. The quiet in the hall only stirred Socair’s agitation. She fought the urge to open the door to her quarters and check Práta had not disappeared as well.
The two had finished preparing their clothes in what felt like an hour, but could not have been. Socair walked with purpose for the stables. It was not until Nath nearly tripped trying to keep pace that she realized how quickly she had been walking. Socair tried to be mindful of her speed, but the sun would not slow in its movement across the sky. The stables came into view, and the quiet of the Bastion continued there. She called at the main door for the stablemaster and got no reply so Socair saw herself into the stables proper. She found him tending a foal and grumbling to himself.
“Róin.”
At the call, a burly man, clean-shaven and bald, looked up and smiled, standing to greet her. “Socair! Curious. I’d not heard you was back from yer, eh… diplomatic… whatsits.”
“I am in need of horses. Three. The fastest you have.”
His smile faded, turning to a look of frustration. “Been a lot of that today. Even forced me to pull this’n off the tit. Sad as it is to say, you come too late, girly. Not a horse left even approachin’ on fast. Only thing
