Socair knew only a bit about the town. The Regent’s family had been dock owners before and came to a sort of de facto rule. They had continued to own the docks when the previous Treorai had granted them official titles. It was only under Rianaire that they had been forced to divest their interests and operate the docks as a public service, taxing it appropriately and remitting a sum of that to the Bastion. The histories she’d read failed to mention how the change was taken, but as the gates bustled with life, she was willing to hope that there was no real enmity remaining. Her treatment at the walls seemed to bear out the notion.
“Regent ought to have time to meet with you. And best way to find the Treorai, Sisters bless her. Heard word she’s been in town only a day or so. Lucky you arriving when you did. Rare she’d visit this time of year. Don’t reckon she’ll be here long.”
Socair turned her head to look at Rionn, he motioned her away and so away she went. The trip from the stables to the city gate was short and the streets were wide enough that there was room to walk even with everyone about. The keep was visible from some of the wider streets. It was simple and unadorned except for an abundance of flags flying orange and blue. Socair assumed they must have been the Regent’s colors.
A tug came at Socair’s shirt as they passed a vendor selling tarts. Nath was eying them with a curious expression on her face, leaning toward them unwittingly.
“Would you like one?”
Nath nodded enthusiastically. The girl had been more compliant in recent days, sticking to Socair but being wary of the showy grabbing that had been the first week of their time together. Socair approached the tarts and looked them over. There were a few varieties among the lot, some with preserved fruits which would have been out of season in the north so far from summer. The fruits had likely never been on offer in Fásachbaile, at least not with any regularity.
The slim vendor smiled brightly at them as they approached. “Welcome, welcome! Baked just this mornin’. Any flavor you like, ladies.”
“Only one,” Socair said gently, nudging Nath forward.
She looked them over and pointed to one.
“Ah, glazed peaches and mint.” He pulled it out and leaned close to Nath to hand it to her. “My favorite. Well-chosen, young miss.” He stood and looked at Socair. “Something for you?”
“No. Sweets at midday.” She made a face.
“Haha, remind me of my wife. Two coppers then, for just the one.”
Socair paid the man and thanked him. Nath had greedily bitten into the tart before they had even turned to leave.
Socair looked at Práta. “Do you know anything of the Regent of this place?”
“Mm, I fear I do not. I have seen no requests for assistance in trade manners come to the Bastion, so I would guess that our port cities have little problem moving goods.”
“At least our business with him will be brief, whatever his nature.”
They approached the keep from the side, not knowing the layout of the city, and found a postern gate guarded by a sturdy-looking pair of elves. Socair decided she would rather not wait for harsh questions.
“Good morrow, I have business with the Regent.”
“Socair of Abhainnbaile?”
“I… yes, I am.”
The guards said nothing else, but turned and opened the gate, letting her pass into the courtyard. One of the guards followed her in and closed the gate behind himself.
“Regent’s been expecting you. Doubt I’m the first, but welcome to Casúr. It’s truly a pleasure to have such a notable face among us.”
“Ah, well. My thanks… for your kind words.”
“Think nothin’ of it.”
He took the three through another series of doors and they came to what seemed to be the main hall. A half-bald man, well-dressed and silver-haired, approached them with quick precise steps.
“That will be all. Back to your post.” His voice was sharp and just a bit high.
The guard did as he was bid and when the well-dressed elf came close, he bowed deeply. “Binseman Socair of Abhainnbaile, on behalf of the Regent of Casúr and all of Spéirbaile, I welcome you and insist that you call upon any of our city’s humble citizenry should you need anything at all.”
Any words Socair might have had to respond to such a proclamation flew off the moment the man had bowed deeply in front of her. His head was down even now. “I am…” She looked to Práta, finding only a half-smirk. “Honored?”
“Very good.” He stood. “Now, our esteemed Regent Glae, I fear, is currently indisposed with some business. Unexpected changes in management, though I assure you it will cause no delay in the processing of goods, especially not from our wonderful allies to the south.” He bowed again. “Glae has expected that your business here is not likely with him, in any case.”
“He is correct.” Socair was slow with the words, half-defending herself against being off-put by sudden bows or other prostrations. She had been keen to avoid being seen to, even in the Bastion at Abhainnbaile. “We have urgent business with your Treorai.”
“Of course. I do apologize, though we cannot be sure exactly where she is. We know she has been to the docks this morning and the last we were informed, she was making for the southeast portion of the city.”
“I see.” So it would be a search. A Treorai ought to be spotted easily enough. Deifir was never without at least six guards, including Meirge, and the crowds roamed along with them. “Then we will make for there as soon as we’ve found lodging.”
“If I might, our fine Regent has seen to lodging for you at the city’s
