R
Rianaire
Faces lingered near the windows, staring at Gadaí unabashedly. The innkeep and cook who had been a constant fixture of the dining room before were now curiously absent. It was obvious enough that they were watching as the innkeep was quick to refill any of the cups that went low, except Gadaí’s of course. Rianaire was entertained by the lack of subtlety. She wondered if there was any sense of shame in their actions or if they simply believed that they were being clever in some way. There was no shame in being wary of a hippocamp. Rianaire was still, even of Gadaí. And after the attack, she even felt her heart stutter when Síocháin had opened the door. It was the gawking that disappointed her most deeply. No willingness to face down their concerns. Though such cowardice likely served them better than any high-minded ideals. At least, it would for the time.
Gadaí ate greedily, making thoroughly unappetizing sounds as she did. She slurped down mugs of ale between breaths and bites. Rianaire had implored the innkeep to just leave a large tankard and be done with it, but he may have been too nervous refilling the satyr’s cup to hear anything at all.
“Where are your people?”
Her elven mercenaries had likely not come into the town with her, considering the commotion. It was easy to think the worst, considering the strength of the starved satyr. Attacking well-fed and alert horsefolk seemed like a sure way to sustain heavy losses.
“They are camped.” Gadaí said the words while chewing loud and breathing heavy. “At the edge of town. We thought it would be a trouble to the townsfolk if we all came.” Gadaí looked back at the window and people scattered. “I tried to not come. I tried to have one other send for you to come to our camp. They insisted I go. Gave me this.” Gadaí flapped the cloak with her hand. “Not so good.”
“Well, everything has turned out fine, has it not? Scaring a few folk is to be expected. I likely do the same whenever I arrive somewhere. Have you taken losses?”
Gadaí shook her head. “Few. They have changed nothing since I was gone from the hordes. The same guards at night, the same tactics, the same movements. Like a song I know well. We had been the end of three scouting camps and broken another. The left fled to the wind before we could kill them all. Three escapes. Maybe four.”
“I may have met them. Near Casúr.”
Gadaí took another large bite of her food, nearly the last. She nodded. “We broke the camp north of that place. Impressive that you lived.”
“They were starved, according to a guest who I was traveling with. Inney saw to them.”
Gadaí looked to Inney. “The small one?” She shuddered, making a low undulating noise. “She is a dangerous thing.” A barking laugh followed the words and Gadaí ordered the rest of her food, lifting the plate and pushing it into her mouth. She slammed the plate down. “Ah! Good! The best I have eaten in weeks.”
“Were the camps all that you found? No signs of a horde?”
Gadaí shook her head and wiped her mouth on the cloak. “Some signs, but old ones. Might be they have moved north into the mountains. In this cold, they will be ill-suited to waiting long.”
“It is far colder in the north.”
Gadaí considered this for a second. “Then they may die there. Or will come down. Or they left south. What was left of a horde was left a season before, maybe.”
Rianaire found it hard to believe a horde could hide itself in her province so well, though perhaps they had not. The reports which closed the Bastion City gates were of heavy numbers.
“Did any of these scouts mention the attacks on Abhainnbaile? On the south? The riverlands?”
“They did not. Would not have known of one, nor spoken of one. They fear the centaur too much. If the attacks are true, there will be no horde here unless something is strange. No horde yet.”
“Then they will come?”
“The centaur have promised as much for longer than I have lived. They will take the elflands. Burn them until there is nothing left. Their gods demand it. The Battle demands it.”
Rianaire leaned back in her seat. The information would have been more useful a season ago at least. Perhaps two. Now, there was little to be done except hope they could prepare in time. She would need to return to the Bastion City to orient her new Binse to their work and set them about it as quickly as she could manage.
“Gadaí,” Rianaire said, standing. “I would have you come to the Bastion City with me.”
Gadaí stood, looking at her with a sideways glance. “If you will it. I owe you much.”
“Good, it will be to the benefit of my new Binse of War. We have understood too little of the horsefolk for too long. And you know well how to fight them. If you are willing to teach us, that is.”
“I hold no love for what the satyr have become. They have pride like a fly’s wing.”
Rianaire motioned to Inney and Síocháin, who came to her side. “Then we will see you at the Bastion. I will have lodging and food arranged for your people. And payment as well. You have done important work for me. You will be rewarded for it. We will leave after breakfast.”
She left Gadaí in the dining area and was quickly approached by the innkeep.
“What are we meant to do with the satyr, Treorai?”
Rianaire feigned ignorance. “Feed her as much as she likes and clean
