She walked back to where Scaa waited and they grabbed her, fussing over her and rushing her away. She was taken to a nearby tavern and sat at a table. Scaa laid into her immediately.
“What manner of stupid… muleheaded… You could have died! Where would we be if you had taken that arrow? Where would I be?”
The words flew by, only half heard. Borr and Callaire were frantically arranging for her to be taken from the tavern, back to where she and Scaa slept.
Scaa, for her part, was still screaming at her for what she had done. Óraithe looked down at her hands.
“I did not call for the stone.”
Scaa stopped. “You…”
“It came of its own accord. I did… I did not use any Gift.”
“What do you mean? What are you saying?”
“I do not know…”
A man came in frantic, a patch over his eye. One of those who had helped her take the gates. He was meant to be along them. He talked to Borr, scared as she never imagined so hard a man could be.
They left from the tavern, but did not make for their home. They moved due east, toward the wall. Óraithe felt the earth at her feet. It felt different. Nearer. She was so lost in the feeling that she had not thought to ask why they went for the wall now. Even as she climbed, she felt detached from the world. Lost in the feel of the stone around her.
“You’ll see it,” the one-eyed elf grumbled. “You’ll wish you hadn’t.”
Borr came to the top ahead of them and fell immediately to his knees. Óraithe and Scaa both looked at him in confusion as they came to the top of the wall. Scaa had looked first.
“No… no…”
Óraithe turned her eyes away from the city. In the high sun and the cold wind, she looked out to see the worst stood tall, looking her dead in the eyes.
“How many?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
The words were true enough. Hippocamps. Thousands and thousands. No matter where her eyes fell, they stood there, unmoving at the horizon. Óraithe put her hand in Scaa’s and entwined their fingers.
“What will we do?” Scaa’s voice shook as her hand did.
Óraithe could only offer the truth.
“I do not know.”
R
Rianaire
For once in so long there was energy in the Bastion. Servants and cooks and others moved with purpose to see to the preparations for the celebration of Gadaí’s new position. Eala had taken the news well, to Rianaire’s surprise. She had even called it a good idea. It seemed to encourage the girl. There was grit in her which gave Rianaire hope for the future of all of them. Even to her, having a satyr in her Binse was a feeling she was not entirely comfortable with. Her life had not been touched meaningfully by the Eternal War, but she still understood what had been done by the horsefolk well enough. The questions all nagged at her through the day. What was the meaning if a soul could not part with their upbringing or with their base nature? She knew well that two eyes could look upon the same idea and see two different meanings. As much as she thought over it, Rianaire could not help but feel that her eyes were the clearest. She worried that may be ego, though only because Síocháin still protested against speaking with her.
The evening was close and Rianaire was seeing to her dress in her room with help from Inney. The door behind opened with no knock. It was Síocháin. There was nothing to do but stare blankly for the first moment. She did not enter straight away and Rianaire was dumbfounded to see her. It was strange. Síocháin’s fits did not end this way.
“Síocháin… why have you come?”
She stood with her perfect poise and her impassive face. “You were not wrong. I will say no more than that.” She walked in and made for the dressing room, likely to fetch something to wear.
Rianaire followed her, spilling out of her unbuttoned dress as she walked. “You are dressing? For the feast?”
“What else would I be dressing for? It would be strange if I were not there. Unless you do not want me?”
“I want you.” Rianaire smiled. “Always. I’d missed you.”
Síocháin said nothing. Likely it was best not to push her luck, Rianaire thought. She could not remember Síocháin admitting a loss in such an argument, not even back to their young days. She was stubborn to a fault, even hidden beneath that stone exterior.
Rianaire went back to dressing, Inney putting the buttons together up her back. The dress was a luxurious silvery affair with deep purple designs across it. She had intentionally kept the banquet somewhat small. Only a few dozen of the most prominent business owners among the Bastion City. Mion would be there, as well as her new Binse and Eala. She knew the situation would be a delicate one. Word had spread well enough as it was and she’d received letters begging concerned questions all day. This event was to be an introduction to Gadaí. The rumors were what they were, but she would need them to be quelled by showing the satyr, not keeping her secreted away behind walls and guards and the like. That was not the way forward, the alehouse had told her as much.
She had dressed and Inney had done the same before seeing to Síocháin. Her stoic love wore pale blue. It was a favorite of Rianaire’s. She looked so beautiful in it, her skin almost grey against the color.
Inney wore a cloak as always, ornate and marked with dark greys and deep blues. It was heavy leather, lined with light plate at the inside. She wore similar ones any time she went out, though they were rarely so intricately designed. Likely she’d ordered it made to keep from hearing Rianaire complain that she would stand out at events.
The hours slipped away lazily until they were called for the pre-banquet pleasantries. They went
