Síocháin piped up. “The point.”
“Yes!” Rianaire laughed. “Yes, the point. My Binse are handed a writ. My will, as it were. Not something shared over lusty embrace and bad wine, but something that I am explicit about. A way I wish things to be run. I choose people suited to it and leave them be.”
“So that she might drink and debauch,” Síocháin said plainly.
“Very much so. All the more reason to find talented sorts.”
Méid looked to Síocháin and back to Rianaire. “What if I fail in my tasks? What if I need your advice or do not understand something?”
Rianaire put a hand to Méid’s thigh. “You will do well. We need armaments made and you have full authority to demand it and the knowledge to ensure they will stand against the hippocamps. And I will always be available to you should you need me.”
Méid pulled a deep breath. “I will do my best.”
“There was never any doubt.”
The door to the main hall opened, letting in a cold, brisk wind. Rianaire looked up to see the driver there. He nodded and so she wiped her mouth and stood.
“We must be away, then. To the coast.”
Méid pushed her chair back and walked beside Rianaire to the door.
“You need not fret, Méid. What I’ve tasked you with is no more difficult than what you’ve done here. And there will be far fewer who disagree with your requests this way.”
“Again, I… thank you. I know it is an honor.”
Rianaire stopped at the door and hugged Méid tight. The broad woman squeaked in surprise.
“I know this is a burden to you. I know there is pain in leaving your home. But you will help so many. If there were another for the job, I’d have taken them first. But the list had only one name.” She pulled away and smiled at Méid. “Travel safe. Our people need you.”
“And you, Rianaire. Be safe.”
“Hah.” Rianaire turned and left the inn. “If only it were so simple.”
Síocháin and Inney joined her in the carriage and the doors were shut.
“Will she truly be alright?” Inney asked, her elven mask in place.
“She will. She will do better than I hope. It is the sort she is.” Rianaire poked at Inney with her bare foot, having slipped her shoes off. “Enough with that mask. It doesn’t suit you.”
The half-elf was still nervous showing her milky grey skin outside of private quarters. It pained Rianaire to see her that way, especially now that she had begun to learn the great effort behind it. Controlling the Gift so precisely was exhausting.
“The windows…” Inney protested.
“Are no more likely to turn to monsters and kill you than anyone on the street.”
She sighed and let down her mask.
“Beautiful. Isn’t she just?” Rianaire looked to Síocháin.
“She is. Very.” Síocháin added. Her flat affect made it almost comical.
“See? Síocháin agrees.”
Inney blushed ever so slightly, and turned her face to the carriage wall. “You’re horrible. The both of you.”
“I should hope so. Imagine how boring we might be were we not. But, no. Méid. Her character will not allow her to disappoint. She makes the problems of others her own. Indeed, she’d likely run Spéirbaile better than me.” Rianaire snorted a laugh. “But then, I’ve grown accustomed to the lifestyle, I’m afraid.”
Inney laughed, in spite of herself.
“Now. Let us enjoy a very long ride on very long roads.” Rianaire sighed. “I very much intend to do something about these damned dirt paths we call a system of transport. Something more permanent.”
It was late in the third day of riding that they made it to Casúr. Rianaire insisted that they be dropped at the edge of the bustling port town and immediately made her way south, toward the bay with Síocháin and Inney along with her.
She had not quite decided where they would stay, but there was no want of options as the town played host to bustling trade even as Bais settled in and their things could be sent for easily enough. She knew for certain, however, that she wanted no part of a conversation with the city’s Regent, Glae. An unbearable man, to say the least. An oily, weaselly sort that she imagined would take deep pleasure in the smell of an uncleaned arse if it were to gain him some status. Balding and short and stubby eared. She shook her arms and shivered just having pictured him.
“Síocháin.” She perked at the sound of her name, so much as she ever perked, anyway. “There are suitable inns by the water here. There’s one I remember— painted a balmy green— run by that one-eyed old man. Do you remember it?”
“Well enough, yes.”
“I seem to recall Glae hating the place and the owner both. If you would, go and see to a room for us there. I have business at the docks and I doubt I could survive being forced to be still again so soon. Inney will surely keep me safe.”
“Just as well,” Síocháin said with a small shrug. “I would rather the smell of a warm bath and clean linen than butchered fish and bay water. Don’t be too long.” With that, she turned away from them, heading off with purpose to see to their lodgings.
Rianaire began to walk again, Inney keeping pace at her side. “She never could stand the smell of docks. I expect she will complain at least a bit before we’re done with our work here.”
“What work is that?”
“My Binse of Coin is here. Or, ought to be. What do you think of Casúr, what little you’ve seen of it?”
Inney’s lips tightened just slightly. “I lived here once. At the west side of the city. Above a tavern.”
The west was the poorer area.
