Rianaire left the yard behind, Inney in tow. Her mind was satisfied with the course she had decided on. She had thought on it enough, she decided. And besides, she was hungry.
“Ah, this is all so exhausting. We will have lunch first, Inney. And wine.” She said, walking through the main hall of the Bastion. “And then the rest.”
U
Aile
The first fleeting glimpses of the world around her came as barely remembered flashes with vast stretches of black between. Her eyes would not open when she demanded it, neither would her body move. She could feel the tinctures playing with her mind, holding her still when she wished to move, pulling concrete thoughts away from the edge of her reason. She could do nothing but live in a lake of darkness, hoping that poisons inside her would fade before she was killed by whoever had taken her. There was not coherence enough to feel anger at allowing herself to be taken, only the basest things. She stared upward, it felt, at nothing, waiting for the light to return again and show her another piece of the world around her. That was the beginning of escape. It was her nature to survive. She had made the tools of doing so near as natural. They were with her, clear as a cloudless sky, waiting to be put to use.
She put together the scenery she had caught the three times her eyes had fed her brain precious pictures. The walls were stone, no windows. Bars. She remembered a feeling beneath her, too distinct to have still been in her leathers. But she was not naked. Some… thing. Wispy. She had seen the face of an elf, but it was twisted, blurred. The blackness passed as time unmarked. She felt the poisons weaken and prepared herself to do what she could.
Aile’s eyes pulled open just the slightest bit. She could hear nothing, but through the blur she saw a light-skinned creature across from her, sitting on the floor. Her eyes cleared so slowly, but the shapes were coalescing to something. An elfchild. Bandaged across the face. Her body still did nothing she wished for it to do, but she was aware of it all. All the way to her feet. She thought the movements over and over, cycling from head to toe, hoping for something to give, something to cling to and strengthen. She could not feel her Fire, so flesh would have to do. It would be weak. She would need precision. So much the worse for her.
Her eyes would not move in their sockets, but at least looked across at something of use to her. She hoped they were opened only narrowly, lest she rush a new tincture into her body. She could feel something, just the slightest bit. Her right arm. There was a cut in it. The pain was slight. She felt for it, grabbing the sensation as best she could as she kept her eyes focused on the elf with her. Her vision cleared a bit more. A girl elf. And bars. She was in a cell, it seemed. The elf crushed things idly with a mortar and pestle, her mouth moving constantly. Aile could not see who it was she spoke with. The door to her side was open. Likely too much to ask.
The sensation in her arm grew. Whatever cut was there ran deep, though it felt no longer than a fingernail. It had not been in her when she had fought at the inn before. She’d have remembered taking the wound. They must have put it in her. A way to administer their poisons. She would have been unable to swallow them, no doubt. And surely unwilling. Her thumb was the first to give her feeling. The edge of it, where her skin touched the clothes she wore. Lace, perhaps? Her sense spread out from the cut, reaching toward her thumb and washing ever so slowly toward a middle point to meet. She could feel her thumb clearly in her mind and focused her will on having it shift.
Sounds began to trickle in. Muffled, as though heard through a down pillow or a pail of water. Her thumb twitched, the sounds came closer to audible, and her eyes cleared again. She could see the girl well now, and her eyes would move, even. The room beyond the cell seemed empty. Knowing was impossible as she laid, but the girl had not looked around the room, only occasionally at Aile.
The words became clear enough to understand as she gained control of her thumb.
“…said I was good for nothing, but I laughed, you know? I laughed at her. She does not know any potions. Not as I do. I learned them from a book. I hid it from her, you see? So she could not learn them also. That was years ago now, I know, but I feel guilty sometimes. We have known one another since we were girls. I make it a secret, but I feel Aile would forgive me. The Goddess is understanding, Fiar says so. You have not met him yet, but you will, soon. He said that he could not bear to meet you before the ceremony. He is so bashful sometimes. We have told him how beautiful you are, to tease him. Oh, you are so lucky. To be wed to the son of the King. I am jealous in my way, though I know there will be one for me someday.”
The girl kept up, ceaselessly, moving from one meaningless topic to the next. Blood on the bandage showed the cut on her face to be long and fresh. It must have been the elf from the roof. She had not been sold then. Strange. The muscles in her forearm flexed at her command, but the arm would not lift.
“Well, that ought to do it.” The girl came to her feet holding the mortar and walked to Aile’s side. “This part is
