A knock came at the door and Rianaire turned. Had the time gotten away from her or was someone tired of waiting to nag at her? She had a strong enough reason to rebuff anyone short of Síocháin by her own reckoning and so she opened the door with confidence. A servant girl was there.
“Your… the… satyr. It has arrived.”
“Very good. See her to the yard and bring a pair of training swords.” She turned to Eala. “Come. A bit of fun is waiting for us.”
Gadaí stood in the center of the training yard holding the training sword aloft and shouting at elves who cowered at the edges of the square hoping she would simply disappear, no doubt.
“What manner of trick is this? Will you attack? Why have I been given a blunted sword? This weak metal will be more than enough for you scrawny ones!”
Rianaire called to her from the steps. “It is a training sword, Gadaí. I have a favor to ask of you.”
Gadaí turned and let her sword arm fall to her side. “A strange way of saying it.”
“Well, I hadn’t expected them to hand you a sword without explaining why you had been called.”
“And why am I called?”
“You will fight Eala.”
Eala gave Rianaire a sharp, half-pleading look but forced her eyes down as quickly as she could. It would be hard to think of the girl poorly for being frightened but there was some credit to be given for hoping to hide it.
“If you would rather not, I can have her sent back to her lodging.”
Eala put her hands up immediately. “No. I will fight. And if the Sisters be good, I will live.”
“They are only training swords.”
“I know.”
Eala moved tentatively to the yard below and took her blunted sword. She readied herself and Gadaí held her arms aloft and issued a sound that could only be a challenge. Eala charged as she had with Inney and it ended much the same. Gadaí stepped to the side and slapped steel against steel. The weight of it was far beyond what Inney had offered and Eala staggered away. A few more strong blows were exchanged and the fight ended as Gadaí thundered the flat of the training sword against Eala’s side during a thrust.
There were a dozen more confrontations, each shorter than the one before, all ending with Gadaí’s victory. When the last sword strike clapped against Eala’s back, she fell to her knees, exhausted.
Inney scoffed. “No sense of the girl’s ability if she won’t go easy for even a moment.”
“No,” Rianaire replied. “I think this is an important lesson. For us as well as her. The horsefolk will not test us. They will try to kill us.”
Rianaire called both fighters over and commended Eala for her effort and strength of will. The girl shrugged the words away, lost in her own mind replaying the battles.
“She knows nothing of how we move.” Gadaí’s first complaint.
“How could she be expected to? There have been no satyr here for as long as most can remember.”
“You know the standard triplets at least?”
Rianaire looked to Eala who shared her blank expression. Gadaí grew impatient.
“Then of the scouting standard movement cycles? The faun and their couriers? The wordwitches?”
“Faun?” It was a name Rianaire seemed to remember. An almost mythical race of horsefolk. They had been spoken of in few books and then only as rumor or the tale of drunkards and madmen.
Gadaí made a plaintive noise and spit at the ground beside them. “You know this little and you fight with so few?”
“Who would have told us?” Rianaire could hardly accept that they should know tactics of a race who rarely left survivors who had seen a battle proper. She remembered the way the ambush had gone, perhaps it was one of the methods she spoke of.
“This is a bad way. You must learn. Quickly, at that. A horde is no scout camp. You must understand what you fight.”
Rianaire could not disagree with that. She sent Eala away to rest, saying they would begin again tomorrow. As Gadaí began to take her leave, Rianaire stopped her.
“What do you think of the girl?”
Gadaí did not waste a second. “She is not fit to fight satyr. Not as she is. There is some skill in her, but no experience. She will die.”
“I was worried you might be so grim. Well, I suppose there’s nothing else for it. You will be her official adviser.”
“I will what?”
“You will teach my Binse of War how to fight. How to handle attacks from the horsefolk who would do us harm.”
Gadaí groaned, or growled, Rianaire could not hope to tell the difference. “A large request.”
“With a large reward, of course.”
“Very well. Your word has value. I will accept it.” Gadaí turned and began to walk away toward the gate. “I will sleep.”
Rianaire sighed and put her hand on Inney’s head, fussing with the half-Drow’s hair. “Back only a few hours and already I’m frustrated. It’s a wonder why I keep coming back at all.”
“Perhaps you are a masochist.” Inney let out a satisfied huff at her own joke. A side she only showed when the two were alone.
“I doubt if I could deny it. Between the
