“My greetings, Treorai!” The first of them wore a jovial smile until the air hit him. “Our apolog—”
Rianaire stood, slapping the table. “Sit. All of you. And do not dream of being so familiar with me. I’ve tired fully of playing coy.”
The four looked amongst themselves. Deciding it was best not to test her they moved to their seats. Somehow this drew her ire. It seemed that self-preservation still saw them through the days. She stood, quietly, for long minutes, watching cheeks flush red and arms bundle in the cold. Her eyes dared them to speak, but they were not fool enough to do so.
“I want an explanation of your expanded admissions and numbers. If you came without them, I will be extremely displeased.”
The quiet continued in the room, but they no longer watched her. The heads looked between themselves, growing nervous. It was the head of Spéir’s school who spoke. The eldest, of course. She would not like whatever words came from him.
“I believe there…” He cleared his throat. “That is, we have come to a decision.”
Rianaire, leaning on the table, impatient, stared with narrowed eyes. He turned his own away, looking at the table a moment before beginning again, and looking up to her, hoping she had looked away. She had not.
“We will not compromise the sacred mission of our colleges nor make our students machines of war.”
She righted herself from the table and raised her head. “Then you are all dismissed.” They stood quietly, not understanding what she had said. “Permanently. Leave this province and hope the south suits your tastes.”
“This is—”
She swung her arms and the woman who wore Abhainn’s stones flew across the room, impacting the stone at the far wall with untempered force. She raised her voice. It was cold, deathly cold, as she remembered her mother’s to be, but with a different purpose.
“You have no right to speak in this place! You exist at my pleasure! In my land! Now go!” Rianaire sat back in her chair. “And drag that wheezing wretch along with you before she bleeds on something.”
The college heads hurried away, taking their injured fourth with them. Rianaire slammed her fist into the table.
“BAH!” She swung at the air, wishing to be rid of the anger she felt. When she had finally writhed the bulk of it out, she slumped. “This endless frustration will age me, I know it…”
A sigh escaped her and she stood, exhausted. The first meeting had been so pleasant. It mattered little in the end. If a change in the Binse could begin so well, there was nothing that meant the colleges could not find the same.
She made for her chambers through the connected doorways she always used. When she came to them, Inney, in her mask, was sat on the bed naked with Síocháin behind her wearing the same. Síocháin was busying herself playing with the false colored hair, braiding and unbraiding it. Brushing and rustling. Rianaire sat in a chair across from them and marveled at the two. Her heart quieted at the sight and a calm came over her.
Minutes passed with the quiet rustle of hair being the only noise. Síocháin spoke without looking up from her aimless work on Inney’s hair.
“How were your meetings?”
Rianaire leaned her head against the wall at her back and watched them lazily. “I dismissed the lot of them.” Her words were casual, flippant. “The college heads. And exiled them.” She rolled her head to the other side, keeping her eyes on the pair before her. “No matter. I will find more on the morrow.”
U
Aile
The guards at the gate put their hands up when she returned. She did not remember the face of the elf that had let her in, but none among them seemed as welcoming as they had been. It was hours to dawn still and Aile ached from the long ride. Her horse chuffed and backed away as the guards stepped forward. She decided it was likely best that she dismount before gaining entrance to the city became something altogether troublesome.
“I was here just the night before.” She supposed that offering up such an explanation would help her cause.
“And where were you for the night?”
“I had business to the west.”
“What sort of business?”
“Business.” She narrowed her eyes at the guard, the stiff grind of the leathers having removed the bulk of her patience hours before.
“Why you little black—”
The guard that had come forward with the first put an arm out and put an end to the self-destructive sentence the other had started.
“You’ll forgive him, Drow. A guard is missing. He believes stories about—” The smarter guard went pale and stumbled in his speech. “I… I had heard of your coming. Before, that is. You were seen at the gate. You’ve gold to spend, correct?”
“I do.” She shifted her eyes to the stupid one who still seethed behind gritted teeth. “And I have no interest in being a part of any stories.”
“Well, then we’ll see to the gates. I do not mean to offend, but please… cause no trouble. Folk are on edge after…” He trailed off and looked back at the other, frustrated and walking around full of impotent rage.
The gates were seen to as was promised. It had been
