“They are…” Rianaire struggled to keep her composure and catch her breath. She had to place a hand on Inney’s shoulder to keep herself upright. “They are most welcome. Rare to find someone willing to admit they’re glad to be rid of her.”
“Scared you’ll throw them in a cell, most like. People have their ways. Most of them based on fear. So what is it you’ve come looking at an old woman for?”
“I can scarce believe you’re old. You don’t move like it.”
“About the only thing I can do anymore. Mind’s rotted of anything other than fighting and rude language. I can barely piss and when I do it’s sent half down my legs from all the sag in my cunt.”
“Too much time in bed?”
“Sisters, I wish. Too much time spent sweating into thick leather and then scratching the rash it made.”
“All the more reason to wear dresses, then.”
“Bah,” Ainlag spit at the ground. “Could never stand the things, except for the ease at gettin’ into them. So.”
“Right, business. I’m rebuilding my Binse and your name was given to me. Or rather, the knowledge of your existence was. The name came later. I was worried you’d be old and useless, but now I have rather changed my thoughts on the matter.”
“Don’t be fooled by a loose tongue, Treorai. I’ll be dead in a few years and I’m not fit to fight much more than young ones who don’t know their way around a sharp stick, much less a proper weapon. Worried about the horsefolk, is it?”
“It is. They have invaded Abhainnbaile in earnest and I have my suspicions the desert will not be far behind. It would be a shame for me to have spent the time on such a ride to leave with nothing. In fact, I believe I cannot allow it.”
“Well, you’ll not drag my bony old hide anywhere no matter how much insisting or allowing you do.” She leaned on the fence and looked up at the sky beyond Rianaire. “I guess a recommendation ought to run you off.”
“I’d take that, if I can convince you to give nothing more.”
“A fair enough trade, then. Young girl. She’s not learned as much as I’d like, but she’s the best I’ve seen since I was a child. Deadly with a sword, smart mind, almost too smart. But young.”
“How young?”
“Forties, I’d say.”
“So scarcely grown.”
“Grown enough. She’s killed before. Knows the theories of war. Strong-willed, and has the respect of everyone I’ve put under her.”
Rianaire considered the situation for a moment. She was to trade one extreme of age for another. She looked across at Ainlag, who met her eyes. The old woman’s face was serious and her eyes were steady. She’d meant what she said.
“Well, I’ve decided. Bring the girl here tomorrow. We will come in the afternoon. And with any luck, I’ll rob you of a student and we’ll all be drunk from celebration by the evening.”
“One less whelp to nag me and payment in drink?” Ainlag stood and laughed, slapping a hand against the fence. “Might be you make an old woman fall in love again.”
U
Aile
In the hours since leaving the horde on the plains behind, they had gone south without Ilkea so much as looking at her. Aile found that somehow more annoying. The satyr was quiet and conspicuous like a child who had failed some feeble attempt at mischief but not yet been called upon to answer for it.
They must have been just north and west of Fásachbaile’s Bastion City, or at least Aile reasoned that was about right from the way two of the four plateaus that flanked the city sat relative to them. She slowed her chariot and pulled it to a stop in the middle of a barren brown stretch of plain. Ilkea had continued past her, as if hoping that Aile had not stopped at all. She looked back and dragged her own chariot to a stop a distance away before trotting it up to Aile.
“What do we stop for?” Ilkea’s voice played her nervous mind out in sound.
“We sleep.”
“Here? This is no place for a camp. We… we are too near the elves. We will be seen.”
“There is no road for miles. And nothing out here but cold and dirt. Raiders will not venture this way.”
“But… but we have work still.”
“I was given no time limit. Do you mean to dictate one to me now, goat?”
Ilkea chuffed angrily. There was a brain in that head after all. “No. But we should not sleep at this place.”
“Then do not sleep.”
Aile stepped down from her chariot and as her foot hit the ground Ilkea’s head sank, no doubt convinced the argument and her protest, minuscule as it was, were done. She came down from her chariot and took her own tent first.
“I will make tents for us.”
“Then I will supply the fire.”
Ilkea stopped and looked at Aile when she said the words, not sure what to make of them. Apparently, her musing on the line decided it was a good thing. She smiled at Aile and seemed to cheer up.
When the satyr had gone, she set about digging out a small pit. It would be hours still until dark and nothing could rush the light from the sky. When the pit was dug, Aile pulled some wood from the pack on Ilkea’s mount. It had not been refilled when they were at the camp. The pouch that held whichever of the letters caught her eye. No need to check it now. She would have all the time she needed. The fire was set and Aile sat herself on the ground next to it. There were no rocks nearby to ring the fire, but it mattered little. It would not be a large flame and there was nothing left to burn anyway.
Ilkea had become rather adept at the setting up of tents. It was a convenience that Aile considered she might have enjoyed for a moment before
