“You speak as though you intend to change that.”
“I should say I do. If I’m to have honest folk paying their taxes in an honest way, I need their trust. And trust requires protection, a feeling of safety and that they are provided for.”
Rianaire nodded. The woman was a salesman, that was sure enough. She seemed sincere and spoke plainly about what she intended to gain from what she would provide. “Tell me more about the guard.”
“A difficult problem. I have no one trained well enough to train them. I know of a woman… she trains the guard for Síoscuain. Used to serve as personal guard for the Regent in Cnoclean. I would have her come here. Or at least send someone she trusts well enough to do the work.”
Rianaire did not remember such a woman in all her time at Cnoclean. Perhaps it was before her time, even. That would make the woman very old, a concern to be sure. Lunch had arrived. Venison in gravy with dry bread. It fit the brief she’d asked for but somehow did not interest her at all. She had become impatient having heard there may be a woman.
“What do you know of the woman aside from what you have said?”
“Very little, I’m afraid. She was spoken highly of by a merchant from the city.”
“A pity. I had hoped to save myself another carriage ride.”
“I apologize, Treorai.”
“Do not. Your plan is a good one. We will need as many able, competent fighters as we can manage. I intend to raise a provincial guard and improve the roads. I would have you begin work on your own as soon as you have capable guards to keep them safe. Movement is treacherous enough with the satyr roaming the hills like something from a bad children’s story. Build them up as you would within the walls.”
“Understood, Treorai. It will be done as soon as we are able.”
“Well,” Rianaire stood, tossing her napkin onto the plate lazily. “I fear it is time I returned to my rolling cage and trudged off toward Síoscuain.” The Regent stood as well, a serious look on her face. “I believe I am leaving the city in capable hands. I would ask that you do not let me look a fool for thinking as much.”
“I would not. My standards are my own and I live by them as I would die by them.”
“Good.” Rianaire nodded and the Regent bowed.
She sent Inney ahead to see that the carriage was readied and almost immediately began to complain to Síocháin.
“Must I go in the carriage again? Please, strike me across the head that I might be unconscious for the trip.”
“A head wound would help in appointing a Binse of War?”
“I fail to see how it could do much harm at this point. After dealing with the moron who saw to the city gate, I’d be happy to see a soldier who knows where to put the pointy end.”
Leaving past noon put them barely to the crossroads when the sun fell and so Rianaire took the opportunity to drink as much as she could, planning for the headache to at least be a distraction from the boredom of the next day’s ride. It helped somewhat but she also gave up her breakfast to the road and by the time there was another place to stop, she was more hungry than hungover. Lunch was brief and she avoided drink in spite of herself. They made good pace and for that, Rianaire was thankful.
It was mid-afternoon when the port town of Síoscuain came into view. The day was sunny but there was still snow on the ground. Only a thin covering in most places. The town was packed full with people, a fact that said the Bastion City port was still limiting ships. It was an awful time to have to do such a thing, she knew that much, but there was little choice in the matter. The ice floes were still a few weeks from forming at meaningful size and even then, sailing in Bais was a risk few took without good reason or proper equipment. The ports would prove crucial if the hippocamps did make it so far north. It would allow them supply and troop movement, at least along the eastern side of the province.
She asked after the old woman, whose name she had not been given and quickly found that just about everyone knew who she meant. Ainlag. People cheered up at the sound of her name even. It was curious to Rianaire that she had never heard of or met the woman. Síoscuain had no Regent to speak of, so it made an amount of sense but she still found it curious.
At the northwest edge of the town, there was a small house, painted the colors of the Treorai and with a fence around the side and back yards. A woman stood in the side yard. Grey-haired, but she moved too sharply to have been as old as Ainlag must have been. She turned as Rianaire and her two companions approached.
“Treorai Rianaire. A true honor to have you come to such a place. Assuming you’re not simply lost.” There were the deep cracks of age across the woman’s face and her voice, like her laugh, was rough and deep.
“If you are Ainlag, I am very much not lost.”
She laughed again. “That’d be me. I knew your mother.”
“Oh?”
“Mm, can’t imagine the smallest worm in the ground could make a tighter hole than her arse must’ve had.”
The laughter burst from Rianaire so suddenly and so forcefully that she nearly broke a rib. Ainlag laughed as well.
“Good to see your way about humor came from whoever laid their seed in her. My jokes were welcome at one
