“A blind man can still tell a change in the wind,” she mumbled to herself.
Socair looked at her but made no question as to what she had said. A quiet fell over the room as Rianaire turned over Socair’s place in Abhainnbaile and the purpose of her visit in her mind. There must have been more to it.
“Do you know how the satyr came to be in Spéirbaile?” For the first time, Socair looked direct across to her. A question about war was what it took to find her stomach it seemed.
Rianaire shrugged. “Briste is apt to be at fault for the bulk of things. You met her, did you not?”
Socair nodded. “An unstable child in charge of—” She caught herself and stammered. “I-I… I do not… I mean, she… I should have held my tongue.”
Rianaire laughed as hard as she had in weeks. “Held tongues and unstable children are why my forests are full with horsefolk. Now, tell me what you make of the woman.”
“I did not see her for longer than half an evening.” Socair was hesitant.
“More than enough to understand her, I can assure you. Even still, you know of her tactics against the hordes. A Binse of War ought to, anyway. Tell me, if not of her character, then of her mind for battle.”
Socair bit her lip and huffed a breath of resolve. “She does not have one, that I can see. She has no standing forces, her Bastion City is as well-protected as an open pantry, and she has not sent an armed soul south of her city in decades. I cannot dream she is aware that the society outside her Bastion is crumbling away.”
“She will be aware of it soon enough. Still, I find it hard to fathom that you spent only a day there.”
“A fool would not have needed more time to see it.”
“You give fools more credit than they deserve.”
Socair turned back to her meal, more aggressively than before. The thought of Fásachbaile troubled her visibly. Rianaire could see the wings on the Goddess before her, but what she was unsure of was whether Deifir had sent her to learn to use them or to have them clipped.
“I am after a new Binse of War, you know. You could abandon Deifir. Tell me, does she still force her Binse through those old ways? Does she bed you often?”
Socair blushed and looked at her plate. A series of conflicts played themselves out on her face before she looked up to Rianaire again. “She does not. Only occasionally.” The words came clear and unashamed.
There was a firmer woman behind the blushing, stammering face Socair had displayed since their meeting. Rianaire found herself eager to see it. She wondered how hard she must push to bring it out.
“Tell me…” Rianaire’s voice was cool. “How is Deifir as a lover? I have always wondered myself.”
Again silence from Socair. There was energy coursing through her, Rianaire could see it well enough. She wondered how it would come out. Would it fizzle away or boil over or could it be controlled?
“She is patient. Confident. She is in control.”
Rianaire sighed. “You’re describing book work, not love.”
“I do not disagree with you. It is that, very much. Almost ceremonial.”
No rebuke of an insult to her Treorai. Rianaire was suitably impressed. There was will in the girl.
“You do not sound pleased with it.”
Socair’s stiff shoulders relaxed just so and she leaned back against the chair. “I am not. It is… a formality made of something that should be a joy.”
Rianaire laughed. “We agree on that, I can assure you. I’ve done away with the practice here. Simply because the Sisters made a Binse from their lovers so long ago, we should follow them blindly? Too much ill has come from such thinking.”
“I…” Socair was hesitant again, though only for a second. She found her words again and spoke plain. “I disagree, Treorai.”
“Rianaire.”
“Rianaire, then. I am not so sure of myself or of the world to question the Sisters or their wisdom. I think the fault lies in what the Bastions have become. They are filled with men and women who seek power of their own, not to assist their Treorai. They are not partners who would guide and support.”
She sat staring at Socair for a quiet moment. It was not a wrong way to see the world, Rianaire knew, but it would certainly take one who swung a sword to expect such an ideal.
“Kind and loving are all well and good, but they must still have the skill for their tasks. The world is not as it was when the Sisters were alive.”
Socair nodded. “It is not. And besides, they are not problems for me. It is wrong of me to speak on them.”
“Nonsense!”
Before she could continue the doors to the inn opened and the carriage driver appeared before them. He informed them that both carriages had been made ready. The walk to the stables was quiet except for when Rianaire could no longer contain her urge to prod Síocháin and Inney. When they arrived, the carriage bearing Deifir’s colors was ahead of her own.
“Socair, I insist you ride with me. I feel we are starting to know one another and I couldn’t stand to wait so long to continue our talks.”
If Deifir had sent her to Rianaire to be taught, it would not do to have the freckled girl so close at hand. She was clever, that one. A doting mother to a timid child. There was no complaint. Perhaps, Práta understood the situation as Rianaire did. She did not know the girl well enough to say.
Inney had sat herself at the front not wanting to be
