“Curious.” Rianaire picked a few grapes from a bunch on the plate. She ate one and continued. “Though, the cold is unkind to them. The snows should begin soon. If they meant to undo us, they chose a poor time for it.”
She did not think that was the intention of the hippocamps, which was to her advantage. Still, there was little time to arrange a working structure to her Binse regardless.
“What say we abandon the province and go live near a hot spring?” Rianaire clapped her hands together as she said it. “A small one. We could run it together. Síocháin, you would cook.”
“And you would clean?”
“Sisters, no. Inney would do that. And security. And hunting.”
Inney scoffed.
“Well, already complaining. I can see this idea’s going nowhere.” Rianaire feigned a sigh. “Very well. Treorai it is.”
The sun had set and the three had changed into dinner clothes. Simpler than normal. There would be no ease in convincing Méid, especially not if the gulf between her lifestyle and that of Spéirbaile were written on their very clothes.
Rianaire took it upon herself to wear a simple grey dress. Loose, understated, but warm. Síocháin dressed in a faded purple, tight through the bodice, with covered shoulders and a high neck. Inney could not be convinced to go without a cloak, though it was a deep blue at least, with a simple black dress beneath and tights beneath that.
The walk itself was uneventful, and though Rianaire had enjoyed the quaintness earlier, she found herself already bored of it.
Méid opened the door quickly after they knocked. The smell that rolled out from the door was inviting, though the nervous smile on Méid’s face proved less so.
“Welcome. Come in. I’m sorry it’s not more—”
Rianaire placed a hand on her shoulder as she stepped in.
“We’ve been here before, Méid. There is no need to apologize for your home.”
There was a clinking noise from the dining room and Méid’s eyes shot over at the sound.
“Another guest?” Rianaire asked.
“Ah, um…”
“No… A man?”
Méid flushed red. Rianaire walked briskly toward the dining room.
“Méid, you are a proper minx. Not telling me.”
Méid was so flustered she left the door with Inney and Síocháin not yet inside.
“Please, Treorai. He is a humble man.”
Rianaire was nearly jogging when she reached the dining room. He was a rugged man, short ears, full beard, tall, but with a gut. His hair was jet black flecked with grey and white, though he did not look so old.
“Ha ha! Welcome, Treorai. You’ll forgive Méid, I hope. She’s been in a full tizzy since the marmar landed. There’s no helpin’ her. Reckon she’d worry for lack of problems if we ever saw the day.”
Rianaire laughed. “She would, indeed.”
Méid had caught up now. She went straight to her man and slapped at his arms. “Olla, you can’t be so familiar.”
“Nonsense, he can’t. And you shouldn’t call me so distant a name. Rianaire will be fine. For you as well, Olla.”
“M’honored, though most I’ve done is trick this’n into lettin’ me in her bed.”
He laughed raucously and Rianaire joined. Méid flushed a deep red and punched him hard in the arm, so much so that he nearly fell over, having to brace himself against the wall, still laughing.
“Olla, I swear you’ll be the ruin of me. What kind of manners is this? With the leader of our people in?”
Rianaire moved to one of the seats at the round table and sat as Inney and Síocháin came to the dining room.
“Méid, the poor man is like to lose an arm if you keep up this way. Come, sit.”
Olla rubbed his arm, and moved for the doorway. “There’s a few bits left in the kitchen. I’ll be back with ‘em directly.”
Méid sat herself down across from Rianaire, who was flanked by Inney and Síocháin. It was the first that Rianaire had noticed the food on the table, but the spread was stunning for what must have been available. Roast duck, potatoes roasted in duck fat, glazed carrots, long beans with garlic and butter. Olla returned carrying a plate with venison and parsnips, roasted as well. And fresh bread. He placed them on the table and sat beside Méid a second before hopping back to his feet.
“The wine!” He said. And rushed back out.
Rianaire looked at Méid as the sounds of Olla tromping around the kitchen filled the room. She cocked her head to the side, smiling, and Méid blushed again. And with that Olla was back, sitting beside Méid with an arm around her shoulder.
Rianaire reached to begin filling her plate and Méid shook her hands, starting up from her seat.
“Oh no, I should…”
“Nonsense, Méid. Stop making such a fuss. I can fill a plate. I can tie shoes and bows as well. And I’ve even wiped myself a time or two.”
Olla let go a large laugh, and patted Méid. “Her pa was the sort to make sure she was proper. I knew ‘im. Apprenticed under ‘im.”
“Ah,” Rianaire said, “so you are a blacksmith as well?”
“Haha, Sisters no. Couldn’t work the steel to save my life. Not got the timing for it.”
“He’s not skilled enough with his hands,” Méid said bluntly, huffing in annoyance as she filled a plate.
“Not good with his hands? A woman could go mad hearing that sort of thing.”
Olla laughed again. “She’s given no complaint. To me anyway. Not unless nail tracks down the back count.”
Rianaire pointed her head at Inney and took a bite of duck. “If they are, this one must simply be sick to death of me.”
“Back to it, I’m no blacksmith, no. Handy in a kitchen. A bit in the garden, and I can hunt and fish well enough.”
“Filling so many holes as she can handle, is it?”
“Seems to’ve worked!” He slapped the table, laughing.
Méid punched him again, taking a bite of bread and looking at the table.
“I’ll
