No One's Chosen (54 page)

Inney looked away. Rianaire liked to imagine she was
blushing, or perhaps even smiling. She had such beautiful lips,
even with the scar. Rianaire had not seen them clearly but they
were soft and plump.

"I have done horrible things." Inney's voice was
pleasant. "If you had found me some other way than through your
need, you would like to have had my head off."

"I am not so naive a woman as to think the world
spins without blood spilling. A death is not so grievous unless the
one dying is someone I like. It is the same for you, is it not? You
say you have admired me, from the streets of the Outer Crescent or
Inner?"

"Both, when I have been able."

"And now you ride beside me. Do you wish to murder me
as you have others? Could you be paid to take the work?"

"No."

"And if I were killed? If you were able to find the
killer?"

Inney remained silent.

Rianaire laughed and continued. "There is no trick in
the question. If Síocháin were even so much as bruised with
malicious intent, I would have the guilty party flayed in front of
me. And now you. You are mine as I am yours. When I love, I love. I
take joy in pleasure, but the feeling of love is something else. I
do not love my subjects, not as individuals. But I love my people.
I love the innocent. I love the whole of them as I love Síocháin or
you or Aerach or Grod— Sisters keep him. Do you not love me?"

"I… do." Inney hesitated a moment. "I believe I
do."

"Is there more to love than the belief in it? Can you
do more with a feeling than believe in it?" Rianaire paused and
closed her eyes as a gust of wind rolled past them. "It does not
need to be so complicated. Love can come and go and linger and stay
and fade and bloom. It is given to whim and we do not control it.
That is why it offended the old ways of the north so deeply.
Tradition and stern faces are what make for strong leaders. They
insisted upon it. It was the way of the mountain elves." She
laughed sarcastically. "A lovestruck, smiling, laughing fool such
as me could never serve the realm. That though is why I am sat here
next to you. But it is also why I trail a wake of dead. But I will
not stow my smile or spare my laugh." Rianaire looked at Inney
smiling genuinely. "I will not betray myself to meet the
expectations of a miserable, dying way of life."

Inney was silent when Rianaire finished. Moments
passed before the small half-elf finally spoke. "I am glad to have
met you." Rianaire smiled and put a hand on Inney's leg as they
rode. The Treorai closed her eyes and enjoyed the cool breeze.

Theasín arrived before them some hours later. There
had been common clothes in the back of the wagon, garments of
roughspun and dyed linen. The city was large but compactly
arranged. Rianaire sat in the back and left the navigation to
Inney. She had given the girl instructions to find an unassuming
inn on the edges of the town. A place that was not like to be
watched or noticed. They found a small place, well away from the
walls of the keep at the center of the city. The Regent of the area
was some child of a friend of Spárálaí's. His family had seen to
the city well enough before her rule that there was no reason to
see them removed. Now, it was reason enough to keep herself clear
of the city center. She was less likely to be noticed by sight in
the southern cities but she did not wish to be proven wrong with a
knife to the back.

The inn, from the outside, seemed comfortable enough.
Relatively clean and quiet, with an alehouse that was connected via
a small, covered walk. She did not see the inside of the place.
Inney took care of booking the room. There was riding to be done,
yet. Rianaire directed the wagon west and when they had left the
streets of the city behind she moved to the front of the wagon.

"I do not know the strength of Spárálaí's force.
Surely some of the guard will lay down their arms, or even turn to
our cause when we arrive, but that is no given outcome." Her face
was serious as she began to detail the plan. "I need a force of my
own. Fásachbaile has no such force, only bounties on hippocamps and
mercenaries to claim them. Abhainnbaile has a force but little
concern for anything save their own borders. Fair enough, I
suppose." She shrugged. "We will head west. If there was any truth
in the reports my Binse delivered at the last proper meeting, the
raiders camp the area in large numbers. They have fortified caves
ill suited for mining and made homes of them."

Síocháin's voice was flat. "You mean to hire raiders
to retake the Bastion City?"

"I do," Rianaire said with confidence. "Though I do
not relish the idea. Depending on the honor of raiders… I still
have to stop myself shaking my head at the thought. But every soul
has a reason for living. I hope to offer enough of those reasons
that they will join us rather than kill us."

"How do you mean to find them?" Inney's polite voice
asked with no hint of sarcasm or incredulity.

"There will be a camp along the road. One meant to
attack travelers. From the reports I have heard, they rarely number
more than six to a camp. We will invite them to have at us. When we
have subdued them, we will ask politely where we might find their
main camp."

"And if those six will not tell us?" Síocháin
asked.

"We will ask the five that remain alive, politely,
where we might find their main camp."

Síocháin turned and faced the back of the wagon for
the remainder of the ride. She could handle a short blade. Inney
informed her that there were several among the crates that lined
the wagon. Rianaire secured a short sword for herself, though she
was generally unsure with a blade. She had not practiced with one
in many years. Síocháin opted for a smaller dirk. It was long
enough to keep people away but light enough that her thin arms
could wield it readily.

They had ridden west and left the main road for the
smaller side roads into a rocky hillside. It had been no more than
an hour on this side road before they came across an overturned
wagon. As they approached, a pair of poorly dressed women in ragged
dresses stepped out from in front of the wrecked wagon to wave them
down. Inney obliged and brought the wagon to a stop in the middle
of the road. The women were bone thin. The taller of the two women
wore a tattered green dress under a matted bunch of brown hair. The
elf beside her looked to be about half her age. She had silver hair
and a stained blue dress of her own.

"Good morrow!" The brown-haired woman's voice was
almost chipper. Funny, Rianaire thought, but an effective way to
disarm people. A bright enough smile might even hide the rough
state of her hair and clothes.

The silver-haired elf was not so talkative. Rather,
she looked at the ground and occasionally turned her head slightly
to check that the overturned wagon had not disappeared.

"Good morrow. Is there some help we might afford
you?" Inney's voice was polite and her face bore the ever present
smile. She had not seen fit to open those piercing green eyes.
Rianaire wondered what the women must have thought of it. Whatever
their thoughts may have been the brown-haired elf was determined to
continue the farce.

"Ah, would you be so kind? Our wagon has thrown an
axle and we lack the knowledge to fix it. We have materials. Would
you be so kind as to take a look?"

The smile grew on Inney's face. "What a thing to
happen!" The concern in her voice sounded as genuine as Rianaire
had ever heard. "But I fear we are also poorly schooled in the ways
of mending wagons. Would a ride to the nearest town suffice you?
Surely there would be a pair of capable hands there."

The woman stopped. She had not expected that. Nor had
she expected Inney's kindness. "Oh… I… I couldn't leave my goods.
Nor would I wish to impose on your good nature." Síocháin tapped at
their backs to signal that she had seen movement around the
wagon.

Rianaire stood suddenly and spoke. "Did you mean to
have us come down from the wagon?" She turned around to look,
standing on the seat at the head of the wagon. There were four
others. A younger boy and three older men. They held poorly forged
swords and were each as thin as the other women. They took it in
turns to stand properly, showing themselves. "It would be easier to
kill us on the ground, I suspect."

The oldest looking of the men pulled a sword.
Rianaire twisted her hand and gritted her teeth. As she did, rough,
white roots shot up from the ground under the man and wrapped his
shoulders, pulling him down. The man thudded against the ground and
the roots dug themselves into his chest. He had been standing
beside the young boy who ran to the front of the wagon and behind
the brown-haired woman. The two other men pulled swords. The man
nearest the back pulled his sword overhead to throw and the roots
missed his body, wrapping around the blade. They slipped off easily
but threw the man's balance off. He stumbled forward, swinging
wildly and putting the edge deep into the wood. Síocháin lunged
forward with her dirk and plunged it deep into the man's neck. He
fell away clutching at his throat and the last of the men dropped
his sword where he stood.

"To the front," commanded Rianaire. He did as he was
bid and when he got there he went to his knees. The women and the
boy followed him in prostrating themselves.

"Please, milady. We didn't mean nothin'," the man
said.

Inney hopped down and stood in front of the man. "It
does little to lie after having shown your hand." Her voice was
sickly sweet and the smile seemed mocking. The girl turned and
looked up at Rianaire who still stood on the wagon. The man stood,
suddenly, behind her, a dagger in his hand.

"Inney!" Rianaire scarcely had time to shout before
the blade was pushed through the girl's neck. There was no blood
but the blade was certainly there. Nearly imperceptibly, a shadow
passed across the man's neck and a line of skin and meat opened
with the shadow had been. Inney walked forward and the blade pulled
out from her neck. The blood began to spurt from the neck of the
raider.

Rianaire slumped down into the seat below her. The
silver-haired elf screamed as the man's blood leaked out onto the
ground around them. The remaining raiders were spattered with the
stuff from head to toe.

Inney looked up at Rianaire. "I apologize if I
startled you, Rianaire. I forget you have not seen me work. If it's
the magic, I can teach you. It ought to be simple for a woman of
your skill." She smiled wide and turned to the brown-haired woman.
Inney grabbed the woman roughly by the head and dragged her forward
with surprising strength. The boy behind stood to strike out at
her.

"Cinnte, no!" The boy froze when the brown-haired
woman shouted. "Don't hurt him, please, he's my boy. He don't know
nothin'."

Rianaire stepped down from the wagon and approached
the woman. "You three do not belong here."

"Aye, aye. We do not. I was a cobbler in Glassruth
before it fell. The boy is mine and the girl… she ain't never hurt
a soul. I found her half dead 'round the end of Breithe."

"You are part of a larger group then?" Rianaire
nodded to Inney who let the woman go.

She nodded when she had righted herself. "Not for so
long, but we are. Two weeks ago now."

"And where are they?"

The woman's face grew suddenly stern. A silence fell
over the road until Síocháin kicked away the body of the man that
had swung at her. The girl with the silver hair flinched as the
thud sounded from the back of the wagon and began to cry.

"I cannot—"

Rianaire knelt down in front of the woman and she
stopped her refusal. "You are worried they will kill you. You and
your boy and this girl," Rianaire motioned to them in turn. "I
understand." Rianaire stood. "I feel that understanding is an
important thing, so I will explain myself clearly. You will die,
here and now, on this road, if you do not lead me to the elf who
leads your raiding party. If you assist me, I will forgive your
attempt on my life and suggest that your leader do the same."

The woman looked back at her son and the weeping
silver-haired girl. She turned and looked to the ground for a long
moment. "Aye," she said, finally. "I will show you."

"Wonderful!" Rianaire's mood brightened immediately.
"Síocháin, help these three into the wagon."

Inney helped the brown-haired elf to her feet. And
the three hostages moved to the back side of the wagon.

"The road ought to be wide enough to turn around,
don't you think?" Rianaire said to Inney.

The brown-haired elf spoke to correct Rianaire when
she had stood in the rear of the wagon. "The main camp is not that
way."

"Ah, I assumed as much," Rianaire said. "But I am
tired and I should quite like to rest ahead of whatever tomorrow
might hold. And since we are no longer enemies, I should like to
get to know you more closely."

The eldest of the elves gave her a bewildered look.
Rianaire climbed up into the seat of the wagon and Inney beside
her. Síocháin came forward to join them.

Rianaire turned back to them and smiled. "Have you
stayed in an inn before?"

The sun gave her the first glimpse of the mountain at
the back of the Bastion City. She would be there soon. No
cutthroats awaiting her in inns or woodcutters loyal to their kin.
The ride was nearly at an end now and soon she saw the first houses
on the outskirts of the Bastion City.

The buildings began to fill quickly and the streets
grew thick with elves. Some stared at her but most seemed not to
notice. Many of the elves were dressed in white and were marching
solemnly toward the main gate. Some were crying. Some were singing.
The roads were congested and many of the wagons bound for the city
were stuck among the mess. She rode beside one with a thin, middle
aged elf with a round face and brown hair. She had not looked at
the man when he began speaking.