The city fell into the background and the pleasant smells with it. Aile made her way back to the small hill where she had left the horse and chariot. She was half-expecting it to be missing as she made her way up the hill and was already deciding that a night in the town would at least bring a wash and some decent food. There was a short shot of disappointment when she found the horse where she had left it an hour and a half prior, still sniffing at the ground where the ale had fallen.
The animal chuffed at her as she loaded the satchel onto its back, stirring a bit in place. She decided to think of pleasant things. Gold and the comfortable-enough cot and cutting the goat whore’s tongue out if she bleated another word unbidden. Two of those things were guaranteed at least. She hoped there would be a chance at the last of them but business was what it was and if the elves were taking strange gold cubes without much concern, so much the better for her.
She got into her chariot and turned the horse toward the coast. The wind was cold off the water as the sun moved into the lower half of the sky. She rode for two slow hours toward the south as the air cooled around her. The satyr girl was clearly terrified of being seen by an elf or having to deal with one. It was a curious sort of nervousness to Aile. Even if she was poorly trained in fighting, which Ilkea’s soft arms and stomach seemed to suggest, she could dispatch a few elves without any effort at all.
The occasionally rocky coast gave way to one of sand and yellowed grass. A fire came into view and the shape of the tent gave the camp away as Ilkea’s. That or another lone satyr had put up temporary residence in a very unlikely spot. The hoof beats attracted Ilkea’s attention soon enough and she stood to wave. She could almost see the smile from there. Whatever concerns had kept her quiet in the day were gone, Aile knew.
She thought of the satyr’s tongue again. A thin, pink thing. It would not offer much resistance to a blade. Aile felt truly sad that there was gold keeping it safely in place. At least for now.
Part Four
O
Z
Socair
The door to the room slammed open and Práta turned in surprise to see Socair standing there, seething.
“Práta, order our things prepared and tell Rionn to be set to leave at a moment’s notice.”
Práta stood and moved toward Socair. “It went poorly?”
“The word does not so much as approach how it went. Each and every one of them—”
“I thought you were to meet the Treorai?”
“And her Binse. They took it in turns to berate Deifir and the province and then me.”
Socair went directly for her sword and lifted it from the place she’d left it. She affixed it to her side with a great sense of purpose as Práta moved to the door to address Nath. Nath stepped into the room, stopping Práta, and spoke.
“Please.” The girl’s voice was smaller than it had been. Small and trembling. “Please, take me with you. They… they beat us. Not just when we make mistakes. Whenever they like. We are rarely fed but are accused of gaining weight and then starved.”
A silence fell over the room, Práta stared at Socair waiting to see what she might say.
“I don’t doubt a word of it, Nath… but I am here as the voice of Deifir. My actions are hers. I cannot—”
“Would your precious Deifir turn such a cold eye on us?!” Nath screamed the words, but slapped a hand over her mouth as soon as they were said. She winced and tears came.
The only sound to be heard was the muffled, awkward breathing of the servant girl holding back as much emotion as she could manage.
“Pack if you wish. I can promise you nothing.” Socair moved to Práta. “I expect this will go poorly. I also expect that this woman is ill used to having anything but her way. Take our things and wait with Rionn. I haven’t the least interest in playing political games. And… well, should I lose my temper I do not believe staying would benefit us. Something here is…”
Práta nodded and reached for Socair’s hand. She gave it a gentle squeeze. Socair closed her eyes, just for a second.
“I’ll dress for the meal.” Práta’s voice was calm. “Nath, you’ve heard what we need. If you could see to it, we would both be most grateful.”
Nath looked up at Práta. “Y… yes, mistress. At once.” She hurriedly left, closing the door behind.
Práta turned, moving to prepare her clothes. “What will you do with the girl?”
“You as well?”
“Oh, you needn’t act with me. You wish to save that girl.”
Socair sat back in one of the chairs, pulling her sword aside. A sigh dragged itself out of her. “What is this place, Práta? Is this truly a Bastion?”
“It has the shape of one.”
Socair was silent a moment. “What am I to do at this banquet?”
Práta held a moment, a green dress waiting at her freckled shoulder. She sighed.
“Smile. It’s what I always did. If they will not listen or treat your words with any weight, at least smiling seems to let the empty headed feel reassured.”
The answer was as depressing as it was earnest. Práta knew the sort far better than she did, a fact which sent a brief rush of pity through her mind. She shook the thought away and looked over at Práta. She would need help with the dress. Socair moved to her and began tightening the
