It was sullen work, but Aile found the other pair watching the fire with stupid expressions. She put a knife in one and sent the other over the edge. And then there were none. Only a disgusting goat to drag out to add to the smells she’d have to endure. She tried to think of the gold, but it only lifted her mood slightly.
The main gate had a smaller door to allow for individual entrance. Aile opened the door and it whistled into the night. She heard the distant sound of hoof beats and leaned herself against the gate. She could hear the wheezed breath of the elf she’d sent over the edge of the wall. His lung was punctured or collapsed. Perhaps both. There was no need in wasting energy on him.
Ilkea rode up, smiling. The look on her face annoyed Aile to no end.
“It went well?”
“No.”
She seemed to ignore Aile’s words and looked next to her with a sort of awe.
“Oh! A door’s door! Why would they need this?”
Aile ignored the question and walked through the door. Ilkea ducked beneath the doorway and followed her into the keep through the tower house. The cells were where Aile had guessed, though they were all empty save for the corpses of a few emaciated elves. They were numerous, taking up the bulk of the keep, it seemed. It was ten minutes or so before they came across a larger set of doors. Aile pointed to them and Ilkea saw to the block and pushed them open.
It was less impressive than Aile had imagined it. A wide yard full of dirt and rocks. It smelled. Ilkea smelled. The cells behind her smelled. Aile tried again to think of the gold.
Part Five
W
Z
Socair
It was nearly sunup. Socair’s mind ran in a circuit through the evening. From kidnapping a ward of the court to the insolence of Briste’s Binse and back, with all the concerns that went along with it. Her task had been failed somewhat spectacularly and as much as she tried to justify it or shift the blame she could not bring herself to find fault with anyone but herself.
The horses were not the ones they had left Abhainnbaile with. Likely a good thing, as they would have tired short of Íobair, the small town north of Fásachbaile which was now their destination. Another thought Socair wished she could put down. The list of her crimes against a foreign province were growing, and they would be in that province for some time yet. Part of her assumed that the Treorai she had met would care more about the taken horses than Nath.
Socair looked at Nath regularly, reminding herself that the choices were necessary or at least justifiable. If she would need to pay for them in some way, she would. There was information on the state of Fásachbaile in that girl and it would be crucial in understanding what they could expect from the desert elves as allies.
A knock came at the wall behind Socair’s head. Rionn. He had driven through the night, asking to be left alone. Socair opened the door to the moving carriage and climbed out to join Rionn at the front. He said nothing, only nodded forward. A guard post sat at the edge of a small city. Íobair. It was understated and clean for a city that had grown from a plains outpost, though certainly it was easily defended. There was nothing within a few miles on either side of the place, unless brown grass was to be counted as a terrain feature.
“Are they Briste’s men?”
Rionn replied. “Couldn’t say. Not enough light to make out colors. Might be.”
“Then I will ride with you until we know.”
Socair had returned to her brigandine and felt at least a bit more at ease. The racing of her heart was more comfortable than the sort she always felt in large, stone rooms full of paper and blustery elves with soft stomachs. She knew well enough that a fight would make resting in Íobair an impossibility, but part of her still hoped for one. She brought her hand to the hilt of her sword casually as they closed on the guards. They did not wear the Treorai’s colors. Nor did they wear any sigils she recognized as belonging to the province.
There were four guarding the entrance and only a small wooden gate to keep others out. No fence nor wall encircled the town. Was it a toll? Rionn seemed unsure of how to react as well. Two guards moved to the center of the road as they pulled to the gate and stood ready, though their hands did not move for a weapon. A plump, mustached elf came to Socair’s side of the carriage as the horses were pulled to a stop. He coughed into his hand and looked up at her, clearing his throat.
“Travelers? Odd time to be coming into Íobair.”
“I am Socair, Binseman to Deifir of Abhainnbaile.”
“Hoho! A high title. Expect you’ve got coin to spend. You making north
