Nath turned in front of one of the blackened wood doors and opened it. The hinges squeaked briefly in protest of the work being forced out of them. The serving girl moved into the room and Socair followed. Práta walked past them and moved to look around the room.
Nath spoke. “I hope the room is to your liking.”
It was a room built to impress, which tended to do much the opposite for Socair. A bed too large for four grown elves. A hearth. Three full-sized writing desks, which seemed only to exist for sake of the cooing of elves who were taken with that sort of thing. What use could a room meant for two have of three writing desks?
Socair stared at them for longer than she had any right to and only came back to her senses when she heard Nath turn to leave.
“Wait, if you would.” Socair said the words before she’d turned to the girl.
Nath stopped where she was and turned on her heels. “Yes, Binseman?”
“I have some questions for you, if I might. I am not so familiar with Fásachbaile as I would like to be.” Socair motioned to one of the fine wood chairs sat near a table she thought was likely meant for tea.
Nath smiled and took the seat on the side nearest the door and Socair took the other, resting her sword against the arm. The girl had stiffened more and her smile was pulled just too tight at the edges of her mouth.
Socair did not wait for an invitation to speak. “What do you think of the city?”
“The Bastion is lovely. I am honored that I was chosen to work within its walls.”
“I did not ask after your work or the Bastion. I asked about the city.”
“Ah, yes… forgive me.” She looked at Práta for a second and back to Socair. “The city is lovely. And so peaceful lately. The cold tends to keep people indoors, I think. And trade is so light in Bais.”
Nath laughed awkwardly and adjusted her dress.
Socair gave a moment to see if the girl was finished. “And the Treorai? I have read about her, but the texts were not terribly recent.”
“The Treorai is… is kind. And thoughtful.” If the girl meant to hide her nerves, she was exceedingly awful at it. “In fact, she has prepared a wonderful reception for you, such that you might meet with some of our most influential citizens.”
Socair was not sure what the etiquette was when someone was clearly perturbed. She was a member of the Binse of Abhainnbaile and something untoward would reflect upon the whole of the province. Would it matter if she said something out of place to a serving girl? She had no sense of the hierarchy of places such as this. She spoke to the servants at the Bastion in Abhainnbaile as she would a friend. Deifir was not so familiar but she was kind. She seemed so often to be a different sort of creature than those around her. Was Briste as refined? The thoughts struck her. Socair had not seen herself as any different than she had always been, but the title had come to this girl’s ears long before reality had. She found it hard to be mindful of that, even as the story of Glassruth had spread.
“I apologize,” Socair said. “I have put you out with awkward questions. I did not mean you any stress.”
“Oh no!” The girl went suddenly wide-eyed and stood, holding her hands out. “It is… I am to blame entirely. It would not be proper to have you apologize for my awkward nature. I had expected only to wait outside and see to you as was needed. I did not expect conversation.”
The words were desperate enough to be genuine, but what fueled her desperation? Was it the same thing that had strained her smile the moment before or fear of Socair’s potential offense?
“It is fine,” Socair said. “You may go now. I have a few things to discuss with my companion before I speak with the Treorai.”
The girl looked to Práta quickly and then bowed. “Yes. As you say.” She scuttled to the door and closed it softly behind as she left.
Socair stood and went to the window to join Práta. The freckled elf looked out across the dim flicker of the city.
“She was unsubtle,” Práta said, not turning from the window.
“She was.” Socair put her arms around Práta and looked out over the city. “And with what I have read of Briste, I fear this city is hiding some terrible things.”
“And are they any of your concern?” Práta put her hands over Socair’s.
Socair took in a deep breath and sighed. “They are not.”
“I know you do not like it, but we have very specific business here. Whatever worries you may have for the people of Fásachbaile, they belong to the people of this province.”
Socair squeezed Práta tightly. “I know. But I will not feel at ease so long as I am here.”
A sudden knock at the door caused Práta to jump in surprise, butting her head into Socair’s chin. Socair let slip a “buh” noise and grabbed her chin.
“Yes, what is it?” Práta answered trying not to laugh as she placed a hand on Socair’s back.
“There is news from the Treorai.”
Práta moved for the door, keeping a straight face with some effort. Socair straightened up, working her jaw lightly with her hand. The door opened and the man who had met them at the main doors to the Bastion was there. He looked at Práta, gave a curt smile, and turned to Socair.
“I do apologize for interrupting, but I have wonderful news. The Treorai has finished with her business
