“No driver? Only guards?”
“We will handle the driving as well. Meirge made it clear that you would want as small a retinue as possible.”
Perhaps Meirge was not so stiff as he tended to put forward. He had at least come to understand Socair, though they did not have much cause to speak for any great length. The city was his and he answered directly to Deifir. Still, it surprised her somewhat that he would give his own men for this trip. It was true that speaking with the other Treorai was an important event, but it was rare that the security of the city came second to anything. Deifir, perhaps. Her voice would be enough to have these two in front of her now.
“Is everything in order?”
“It is.” Rionn stepped forward and held out a brooch and a stack of papers. “Writs entitling you to free passage and room and board as needed.”
Socair took them with a half-frown. “The carriage will slow us. I do not want to stop until late evening. No towns, no inns. Understood?”
“Understood.”
Vód opened the door of the carriage and Socair sighed before putting a foot on the step and climbing in. Práta followed and the door was shut.
“This is strange.” The complaint was immediate.
“Would it not be better to wait until we are underway to complain?”
“Will it be less strange when the carriage is moving?”
“I… somehow doubt it.”
The carriage rolled forward and Socair huffed. It was pleasantly warm inside, at least. That was not likely to last too long once they were moving but it was nice enough for now. The seats were plush but not overstuffed. It was a deep grey interior with red accents.
Socair wiped fog from the window to look at the city as they pulled through the gates of the Bastion.
“There was no sword with my clothing,” Socair grumbled.
“One was packed on top of the carriage.”
“At least there’s that.” She sighed again. “What am I meant to say to these women? Do they even have forces worth taking as aid? I’ve not read a single report from the past hundred seasons that suggests that either of them takes defense of their province particularly seriously.”
“You know more than me, I fear. I was raised to understand regional politics. Outside of a few rote facts from my schooling, I know very little about the other provinces. Though, I could likely tell you every time the coast cities have failed to meet quotas.”
Socair slumped in the seat. “This will be an adventure, then.”
The road along their route was smooth enough and progress was faster than Socair had expected, more comfortable as well. There was no comfort to be found in the lack of vision around them. Blind to the front, back, and large swaths of both sides. Práta did her best to distract, asking about what she’d read and trying to formulate something of a strategy before they reached Fásachbaile, but with information on Briste being hard to come by, she was at a loss.
They passed through Ciúinloch, a town along the northern shore of Abhainnbaile’s great lake, in the mid-afternoon. The streets were quiet and clear and the horses were not in need of water, so the city rolled away behind them without so much as a pause. Socair nearly held her breath from one end of the city to the other without realizing it. When she finally let it go, Práta laughed.
“I wonder if the Treorai imagined you in such a state when she resolved to send you.”
“She must have. She knows me well enough, I believe. I am not suited to being the voice of something, Práta. I know I must be and when I am in front of the Treorai of Fásachbaile, I will be, as best I can. It is my duty and I will see it through but…” A resigned breath escaped her and Socair shrugged.
“I wonder, sometimes, whether you have the wrong idea about what it means to be the voice of a people. There is no more responsibility in it than when you were their sword. Only the weapon is different. You need not change the way you wield it.”
“A poorly honed weapon.”
“Would that stop you if it were a sword and people had need of you?”
Socair knew the answer. The answer was why she was in the carriage. It was a few more hours before the sun began to dip. Socair knew it was early, but that was the way of the cold season. The carriage pulled off the road a bit farther than was entirely necessary and began to make camp. Socair insisted on helping, Práta as well.
When the camp was set, Socair began to rummage through the packed supplies. There was a sword somewhere amongst the food and clothes and she meant to find it. It took more digging than she would have liked but she found the scabbard under a pile of clothes and pulled it free. Before she could check the blade, Práta called her for food. They had only had dry bread and cheese as they rode, but it was enough for Socair.
Dinner was fire-cooked meat and boiled potatoes. It was satisfying and, most pleasingly, it was simple. She had not had such an uncomplicated meal in the whole of a season and she could not have enjoyed it more. Rionn had added some spice to the meat, just enough to enhance the flavor and there was butter for the potatoes.
When dinner was finished, Socair
