Soon enough there was a fire going and the old satyr sat himself across from her.
“She is a soft one and likely will be slow to her task.” He snorted and scratched himself, stretching on the rock. “I wish to know things.”
Aile looked at him silently.
Shahuor pursed his lips and made a sound, perhaps in frustration. “How came a Drow to be the hand of my rescue? None of mine would send one of yours for such a task.”
“While I am sure there are satyr with a hand in the work, a faun put the task to me. And that faun delivers the gold.”
“Gold!” He honked a dismissive laugh. “Leave it to the tiny ones to work with such useless metal.”
“Useless when who’s taken the largest shit decides who leads, I suppose.”
“A fair insult.” The satyr sat up and looked her over. “Then you were not sent by centaur? No. Too proud, aren’t they? A faun working for the centaur?”
“There were no centaur at the camp.”
“Hm.” He chuffed, frustrated. “Curious that they would have such freedom to make a deal unseen. Their nature may have served them in my exile. Tiny fools sold ours and their own to gain favor. You would be wise to mistrust them.”
“Wasted words to a killer, satyr.”
He considered her words silently, studying her for what seemed like the first time. His eyes narrowed.
“You know the way of the current time.”
“I do.”
“I would hear it. I will force more gold from the faun if you require.”
“I do not take agreements in gold lightly.”
“I understand.”
“That is a statement which I thoroughly doubt. But I will collect what I am owed if you fail your word.”
Shahuor gritted his teeth and spoke slowly, insistent. “I understand.”
“So you say. The hordes mean to attack the elves. Where and when, I could not say. Their ways have changed of late. I expect the faun are responsible. Satyr are being sent well north, not just as scouting bands. The desert elves are careless and leave much of their province unwatched. The others are like to pay for this oversight.”
“And the Blackwood.”
“Couldn’t say. The Goddess can burn it all and I’d not bother to ask after the ashes.”
“And if the centaur did just that?”
“The trees would eat the corpses and centaur would either extinct themselves in the effort or tell the same stories the elves tell now.”
She was done talking. The other one could tell him what he wanted. She was suspicious as to why he would want the information from her as it stood. Shahuor closed his eyes after watching her a bit more and remained still as Ilkea returned for the second tent.
“Is there any trouble?” The female satyr looked expectant.
No reply came. She dropped her head and moved off into the darkness to set up the tents. The thought of setting the camp away from the fire annoyed Aile. A pointless walk in an unpleasant place. There were no creatures that the fire would keep away. Nor would it attract any. Bandits might chance across them, but they were most often stupid and loud and rarely moved at night and more rarely traveled through the open expanses of the White Wastes. The towns farthest south were abandoned hundreds of years past and had long since been picked clean between the unwashed grandparents or great-grandparents of any elf stupid enough to venture down and the hordes which roamed the area unchecked in more recent times.
The longer she looked over the old goat, the more she disliked him. And without much to busy her mind, she had begun to notice the inescapable smell of horsefolk. She stood and moved casually to her chariot, sitting in it and leaning against the side-wall. Docile as he seemed, she knew the difficulty of forming the seats as effortlessly as he had. Sitting on them was a risk. True enough, being on land was a risk with him nearby. At the very least the reinforced floor of the chariot would offer some resistance to any attack that might try to find her off guard.
Calm wind, the distant noise of Ilkea at her work, and the occasional crackle of wood in the fire were the only sounds. The satyr did not move from his spot, nor did he seem to take much interest in Aile or why she’d moved. Ilkea returned in time and tugged the final tent from its binding. She did not ask any questions and took the pack away quickly. A few moments later the sounds of her work returned.
In all, an hour and a half had passed when Ilkea returned and sat herself beside the fire. She announced that the work was done and asked after Aile but Shahuor did not stir to bother responding to either thing.
Aile stood from the chariot and moved around to the horse at the head of it. She pulled a few bags from the pack and made her way toward the camp proper. The humble lodgings made themselves obvious once she was far enough from the fire. She chose the one nearest the horses and entered, cinching the flaps tight behind her.
With any luck her night’s work was done, and so Aile set about removing her blades and laying them out on the floor of the tent. When each of them was arranged on the floor, Aile saw to one of the packs, pulling a pouch from it and laid the contents in front of her various daggers. A phial of oil, a sachet of white powder, cotton, and clean linen. With the linen, Aile wiped each of the blades. She then took the cotton and rubbed it in the powder before tapping it up one side of her first knife and
