She stumbled for the door and nearly lost her feet. Inney caught her. The small girl was always at her side and Rianaire found herself feeling wistful in her drunkenness. She kissed Inney and was quickly reminded that a room full of drunkards was watching.
“Let us go,” she said looking up at Síocháin. “I feel I will enjoy the company of both of you a bit more in this state. And I am hungry. Have the guards find us something delicious.”
U
Aile
Ilkea had insisted that they leave the village in something of a hurry and Aile had no good cause to argue. The satyr may have been well enough in awe of her killing one of their own for the time being but it was not a feeling that was like to last. When it faded that feeling was apt to shift somewhere more malicious and it seemed a safe assumption that every satyr in the camp was better at steering a chariot than she was.
Fresh horses were waiting, her horse from the previous day nowhere to be seen. These horses were sturdier looking than the pair they’d arrived on and were more heavily laden. She could see the fittings for a third tent attached to Ilkea’s steed. It also trailed a larger chariot. Aile checked her own horse over quickly and readied to leave. With a few words in the satyr tongue, Ilkea led out and Aile quickly fell in behind.
They were not far out of the camp when Aile leaned forward and grabbed a bag that looked like it might hold provisions. She pulled it back into the chariot and began to rifle through it. She frowned. The leather satchel was full of nothing but centaur ale. She had learned of the awful taste of the stuff only a few days ago, but already she was sick of it in ways she had never been sick of a drink before. Skunky and stale and with all the salty bitterness of old piss, it was truly a disgusting drink that could not have been brewed with any sort of care.
“Satyr,” Aile called out.
Ilkea slowed and came up beside her as they bounced along over the only slightly uneven terrain.
“I’d sooner die of thirst than choke down this swill again. We’ll make for the elven city south of here.”
Ilkea looked at her with wide, dark eyes. “To… to an elven city?”
“Yes.”
Curiously the satyr did not offer any sort of complaint or resistance, but she did not move herself back toward the front of Aile’s wagon, choosing to stay at her side. She was not sure if the satyr was concerned she meant to run or some other thing but she did not care enough to ask.
A pair of hours passed in relative silence. With the cushioned chariot, it was very nearly a comfortable trip. Loathe as she was to break the silence, Aile felt there was more to Ilkea’s lineage and their being together than had been said aloud.
“You are a Regent’s daughter?”
Ilkea looked over slowly, her face confused, eyes studying Aile. The question was far enough out of character that it made itself obvious, Aile knew. Either the girl would speak of it or she wouldn’t. There was no sure value in the information as it was.
“I am. Only as much as the idea still is.”
The idea? Of Regents? Of daughters?
“How do you mean?”
“The centaur only care for subjugation. But the Halushek are strong. We do not forget the order of things. Ours were the last to fall and so the others respect us. They listen. It has been a long history but we have kept our own stories.”
Aile did not know nearly enough of the history between the centaur and the satyr but she knew well enough that the satyr were subservient. That would make this sort of talk very nearly revolutionary in tone. And she was meant to help free an old satyr from an elf prison somewhere in the middle of the desert. It was too foreign a world to know if she was right, but she doubted the next weeks would lack for interest. Payment seemed that it would be seen to as well. The newly forged stuff was properly mixed and she would find out soon enough if it would serve for trade.
It was another two hours, and well past when she’d have stopped for lunch, when Ilkea began to look around nervously and often. She had begun to ride ahead of Aile for only a few moments before sliding back into pace.
“Do you plan on riding into the city with me, then?”
The girl jumped at the sound of another voice before realizing it was Aile.
“I… hadn’t thought.”
“Go down the coast and I will find you when I am done.”
“You will find me?” There was skepticism in Ilkea’s voice.
“Stay to the coast.”
The silence returned then and remained until they made the road. Ilkea implored Aile to be quick and moved off south as quickly as she could. Aile waited where she was, watching Ilkea, so she might have something of an excuse if an elf happened into view but none did. She slapped the reins against her horse and the beast took off toward the elven town of Rinnbeag. The ride was not so far, but she thought better of taking a chariot-drawn horse into the city. Being Drow may have been enough to get away with it, but she was in no mood to be bothered with questions about where she’d gotten it.
Rinnbeag came into view in a little under twenty minutes. She pulled the chariot off of the main road and rode it nearly a quarter mile to the back of a small hill that rose out of the ground. There were no stakes or ropes on the creature to keep it still while she left but
