“I should hate if that was a show for my benefit,” Rianaire said, only half-joking.
Ainlag’s demeanor from the day before returned as effortlessly as rain fell to the ground and she laughed at the suggestion. “If my pride ever fell so low that I could allow a child to beat me for show, I’d put a sword through my chest. The Fires burn hot for warriors who fight with no intention of winning.”
“I should hope they do.” Rianaire nodded toward the girl. “And this is to be my new Binse of War?”
Ainlag put her hand to the girl’s back and pushed her toward the fence. She stumbled forward and immediately took a knee. Ainlag spoke.
“Well, go on and introduce yourself, you dimpy twat.”
“I am Eala. I am honored that you would consider me to serve so grand a position.”
Rianaire looked at the girl for the first time. Her hair was just barely more red than brown and her skin was as white as fresh snow. She had a child’s face, soft and cheeks that begged to be pinched, with pale green eyes.
“Stand, Eala. There’s no need to be so formal. Ainlag certainly understands that.”
The old woman laughed. “Never seen her try to put together such a noble sounding set of words. Must be you got her scared, Treorai.”
“I… sorry. I am not used to… this. Nobility and what not.”
“Well, let’s get you used to it. Ainlag, do you keep anything resembling tea in this house?”
“Might be I do. Door’s open, we’ll come in by the back door.”
Rianaire moved first and then the rest went on their way. Inney pulled the door open and a rush of pleasantly warm air pushed past them. The inside of the place was fitting of Ainlag. Empty bottles and mugs strewn about with old war banners, many stained in blood, nailed haphazardly to the walls. She had more weapon racks than would likely have been found in Síoscuain’s armory. The sight of it certainly bred confidence in Eala as a choice. The house itself was small, utilitarian. A main room which held a bed, a fireplace, and most of the weapon racks sat just off the entryway and attached to a small kitchen on the other side. Ainlag and Eala awaited them in the kitchen, which itself was mostly filled with a dining table. She had a single stove which she placed a log into just as Rianaire entered. Eala was already sat at the table and when the log was lit, Ainlag insisted that the rest take the other chairs. They obliged and their host placed a kettle over the fire.
“I have a question for you, Ainlag, before I ask Eala anything.” Rianaire turned in her chair to face Ainlag. “How is it you worked so closely with the Regent of Cnoclean and I did not know your name before yesterday?”
“A long story. And one without much humor, I’m afraid.” Ainlag ran a hand through her hair. “I was disgraced and stricken from every record, as near as I know. The Regent of that time would lay with me as it pleased him, and sure enough his cock fit well inside me so I had no complaints. But I fell in love with a stable hand. Low born, to be sure, but handsome and strong and, by the Sisters, he made me come like hammers shatter stone.” The kettle whistled and Ainlag pulled it from the fire and set about making the tea. “The short of it is that the Regent figured he owned me and I figured he could fuck himself with a snapped branch and he didn’t agree. Must’ve loved me somewhere in his addled brain, though. He let the both of us leave. Stable hand left me for a ship captain some ten years later.” Ainlag laughed. “Abandoned a life of comfort for a man who only wished to be a fishwife. Shame I didn’t have a cock of my own, maybe he’d have stayed.”
Rianaire laughed. “Well, another disservice done to our province by the wisdom of our noble lineage. At least the bulk of them are dead.” She turned to Eala. “So you. I hear you’ve killed before. Tell me the tale.”
Ainlag placed the tea on the table, she chuckled under her breath as the question was asked.
Eala looked to Ainlag and back to Rianaire. “It is no grand story, I fear. A thief cornered himself trying to flee with stolen ore from a goldsmith’s shop. He pulled a short sword and I ran him through before he could make use of it.”
“And what do you know of war?”
“War? I… have read treatises. Mostly on open field tactics in Abhainnbaile. There are few writings that I could find about our own terrain or how to make best use of it.”
“If you were forced into a battle tomorrow?”
“The tactics of city defense would likely apply, if a bit differently. We should occupy the high ground and put archers to the fore. Delay a charge uphill as best we can and wear them down.”
“What if the high ground is lost to us?”
“I assume the enemy are hippocamps?”
Rianaire nodded.
“Then we retreat and seek better positions. They are the invaders, we have no cause to fight them on their own terms. They must win to gain ground. All we need do is not lose. Whether by delaying them or avoiding a fight all together, we pull food away
