No One's Chosen (47 page)

"Let us not forget the water chestnuts!" The call
came from a plump elf with a head of styled brown hair that swept
up from a sweaty forehead.

"Unless the rumors are true," added an old woman in a
pink dress.

"Rumors?" Socair put the question to the Regent.

"Err, yes." He seemed to want to ignore the subject.
"Some drunks have been spreading baseless rumors of hippocamp
attacks on a few small farms in the south, past Drocham. It's
impossible they crossed the Mire though." The Regent sat back,
satisfied. "No, I think the drunks are just at their stories
again."

The talk quickly turned to the nature of drunks and
the trouble that they tended to cause for honest folk. Socair had
wanted to know more, but cutting in may have made things awkward
and she could not stand the stares when she asked some question the
highborn simply didn't wish to answer plainly.

Práta was the focus of the talk for the final course
of the meal. Her plans for Glassruth and when she planned to return
to resume her position. The girl handled the questions with tact
and poise that Socair thought was a bit unbefitting of her. The
questions, however, where what truly troubled the tall elf. Práta's
home had not been even half rebuilt and her father was murdered
there not so long ago. Was that all they cared about? When there
would be another keep to visit and have a meal in? Socair wanted to
stand and scream to defend Práta from them but she could not. It
only would have stood to embarrass the girl.

The meal ended not long after and Socair found the
will to insist that they needed to return to the inn. She doubted
she would have been able to make such a bold declaration had she
not seen Práta looking so troubled after the desserts had been
taken away. The walk back was filled with Doiléir's voice. He raved
over the food and complained loudly about the conversation and the
guests. Socair wondered if the topics would have been different had
she not refused the guard. Or if there would have been talk at
all.

They arrived back at the inn before long and a
weariness fell over Socair as she let herself relax for the first
time in so many hours. They climbed the stairs and parted outside
the rooms in spite of the shared door. Doiléir and Silín both
kissed Socair light on the lips and Silín left.

Doiléir stared at Práta for a moment before leaning
in suddenly and kissing her on the cheek. She reeled back after the
kiss, looking somewhat in shock.

"Sleep sweetly, Attendant." He said the words,
laughing, and walked away to his room with Silín.

"It would be best to ignore Doiléir when he's so deep
in his cups. Or most any other time." Socair laughed and opened the
door to the room.

Inside, Doiléir was standing at the door that
separated the rooms. He had undressed and his flaccid manhood was
hanging sloppily between his legs. Socair walked to him.

"I mean to sully the name of Attendants!" He
sputtered the words triumphantly.

Socair smiled and pushed him back into his room. She
shut the connecting door, locking it as she did. She could hear his
pouty complaining from the other side of the room for half a minute
before it died down. Socair put her ear to the door and heard
Silín's soft moaning faintly. She sighed in relief and turned back
to the room. Práta had closed the door and was sitting on the chair
looking lost.

"Shall we sleep?" Socair offered.

"Hm?" Práta looked up. "Oh, yes. I apologize. I will
prepare at once."

Socair stripped naked as she always did for sleep.
She stood well taller than Práta who undressed not far away. The
girl looked up at her muscled body as though she were seeing the
elf for the first time. Though, in a way, she was, Socair thought.
She moved to the bed and got in as Práta was changing into a pair
of silken breeches and a matching shift. They were pure white and
hung loosely on her slim body. Socair had watched her closely as
she changed. She was enraptured by the pale girl. Her freckles ran
down to the tops of her breasts and she was nearly as white as her
silk bedclothes. Her short black hair gave her a boyish look that
contrasted her sharp, feminine features.

When the girl had finished dressing and snuffed the
lights, she moved to one of the couches, meaning to lie down.

"Práta," Socair called.

"Ah! Yes, Bearer?" Her voice as sheepish as when they
had met.

"There is room enough in this bed for more people
than are likely in the inn. Would you join me?"

She did not say a word, but Socair heard the girl get
up. Práta slid quietly into the bed and laid with her back near
enough that Socair could feel the heat of it.

"Th-thank you. I am in your debt." There was still a
distracted tone to her voice. Socair wanted to hold her, to ask
what she might do, but she feared it was improper.

"You are not," Socair said solemnly. "You are a good
woman of your own right and you owe me nothing. Nor any other."
There was a moment of silence and Socair decided to leave it there.
"Sleep sweet, Práta."

Socair fell asleep more quickly than usual in the
obscene comfort of the bed. The day's ride had been long and the
dinner had taken more from her than she wished to admit. She did
not know the time or how long she had slept, but she was awakened
by the soft sound of crying.

"Práta?"

There was a sharp snort, a clearing of the throat,
and the wavering voice of the girl beside her. "I'm sorry. I… I'm
sorry."

Socair reached out and placed her large hand on the
girl's back. The skin was hot through the silks. Práta did not pull
away. After a moment Socair's eyes adjusted to the light. She
grabbed Práta by the shoulder and rolled her over. She could not
see well, but she could see that the freckle-faced elf was
frowning. She pulled her close.

"There is no need for apologies." Socair squeezed
Práta lightly.

The smaller elf put her arms around Socair and
squeezed as tightly as she could. She buried her head in Socair's
chest and sobbed. The fit eventually dulled to a whimper and then
to soft breathing. Socair rubbed her hair the entire time and they
fell asleep in each other's arms.

The morning came sooner than Socair would have liked
but the sun was not known to bend to the whims of elves. She awoke
before Práta and rubbed the girl's cheek with her thumb. Práta's
face was still red and puffy from the night before. The touch woke
her up and she went immediately wide-eyed at the sight of Socair
before her in bed. She sat up in a rush, wiping the dried remnants
of snot and tears and drool from her face.

"Oh no." Those were the words she said before trying
to roll away.

Socair seized her by the hand and held her on the
bed. "No? There is no need to run."

"I just… you are… and I shouldn't."

"You are welcome in my bed," Socair said, loosening
her grip on Práta's hand.

Práta did not pull away. She let the touch linger a
moment, staring down at Socair's hand. The sound of a loud thud
came from the room that housed Doiléir and Silín and Práta pulled
her hand back, standing up.

They dressed silently and Socair opened the door to a
waiting Silín.

"I should thank you for distracting him. Práta was in
a bit of a way," Socair said.

"Distraction nothing. I had him to suit my own wants.
Bastard fell asleep before I was done. We ought not to allow him
drink if it's going to soften his cock so thoroughly." Silín
shrugged and walked into the room. "It's just as well without you
there, I suppose. It's never quite so arousing with just Doiléir."
Silín walked to one of couches and sat.

"We are bound for the alehouses that produce these
troublesome drunks." Socair walked to the corner where her sword
belt leaned against a wall.

"Hardly work befitting a Bearer," Silín said, eying
Práta as she dressed.

"It is my genuine hope that there will be more to the
rumors of attacks in the south among the smallfolk." She put the
sword belt around her waist and cinched it.

After they had prepared, Socair went next door to see
to Doiléir. He groaned as she prodded him in the bed. Socair
laughed and assigned him to attend to Práta and any needs she
might've had during the day. He groaned again and she pulled him
from the bed and kicked him in the stomach. As a parting blow, she
told him that he was to have nothing but water and milk for drink
until she decided otherwise.

Socair stopped in the lobby to inquire as to the
location of the less reputable alehouses in the city. A queer look
and some rough directions later, the pair were on their way. Silín
was in high spirits and it helped Socair's mood as well, though she
could not help but worry over Práta.

The first alehouse was generally well-kept and clean.
When the elf women entered a gruff old woman with stubble growing
from her chin growled at them to leave.

"I have heard there's been trouble among some of the
alehouses."

The old woman turned and gave her a suspicious look.
"Not mine, there ain't. I don't go in for no foolishness." She spit
at the floor. "I had a few come in tryin'. Already drunk and
lookin' to pester my customers. Had my boy throw 'em out. Reckon
they come from over by the fish markets. Bars over there'll let in
all sorts."

Socair thanked her and they left the alehouse. "You
wager she's the wife of that stablehand?" Silín whispered as they
left.

The walk to the fish markets was a short one and
there were a wealth of alehouses and inns to choose from. They
checked them as they went with little luck. Many of the owners
insisted that there was no trouble or that it was within reason. A
few seemed nervous about the question but bristled when she pressed
the issue. Socair started to lose hope as the fifth alehouse passed
with no progress.

The sixth stop was an inn. To look at the outside, it
was among the better looking of the establishments they'd visited.
Socair pushed the door open to find the interior was another matter
entirely. The main floor was an alehouse with a stair at the far
end leading to rooms on the second floor, or so Socair assumed.
Most of the tables were overturned and many of the chairs had been
broken. On the bar was the body of a middle-aged woman. She had
been stripped and was bleeding from dozens of wounds across her
body.

"Sisters be good," Silín whispered into the ruined
room.

Socair rushed over, Silín close behind, but there was
nothing to be done. She had been dead long enough to be cold and
stiffness had begun to set in. Socair gritted her teeth and her
face flushed red. She balled a fist and made ready to say something
when there was a knock against the floor upstairs. The elves looked
up quietly and then to one another. Silín nodded and they made for
the stair.

The climb was slow and quiet. It was still early in
the day and there was no need to wake any of the upstairs patrons
who still slept. Socair hoped it was the bulk of them.

There were four rooms at the top of the climb. Socair
made for the door nearest the landing. It opened into a raided mess
of a room. The drawers had been pulled from the dresser and a
naked, hairy elf slept, snoring, on the bed. Socair quietly pulled
her bastard sword from its sheath and motioned for Silín to go to
the far side of the bed. Socair slid in beside the bed and put a
hand over her mouth, then pointed to the man on the bed. Socair put
the tip of her sword over the elf's heart and nodded to Silín that
she was ready.

In a flash, Silín brought a hand down over the hairy
man's mouth. He shot up in surprised but when the tip of the blade
cut him, he flattened his body down and looked around wildly in a
confused panic.

Socair leaned in close. "You will be quiet and you
will answer me, raider." He looked to Silín and back to Socair then
nodded a frantic agreement. "Are all four of the rooms occupied?"
He hesitated a second but Socair shifted the blade above him and he
nodded.

He was only half through the second nod when the
sword plunged past his ribs and into his heart and lung. Silín
pulled back her hand and the man tried to loose a scream but only
succeeding in producing an exhaled wheeze. His eyes glassed and he
stopped moving. Socair pulled free her blade and cleaned it on the
blankets.

They moved silently to the next room and found a thin
elf who looked as though he had barely come of age. Socair did not
want to believe that he had been a part of the crimes here but the
blood around his crotch told the truth of it. She held the sword
aloft and brought it down through his neck. He was just a boy and
though his crime was heinous, Socair could not bring herself to
make him suffer. The blood filled the bed and ran over on to the
floor. They left him there to finish bleeding alone.

The third door was already cracked. Silín opened it
gingerly to reveal a ransacked room but no occupant. Socair cursed
quietly and motioned to move along. She moved to the final door
with Silín behind. The boards of the floor of the alehouse had
creaked here and there. The sounds of someone dressing on the far
side of the door led her to think they had been heard. There wasn't
time for subtlety.

Socair shouldered the door with the full force of her
weight. The door gave way and the frame splintered out into the
room. An olive skinned elf was pulling up a pair of trousers when
the door burst open. He moved to pull a sword from the belt at his
hip but Socair brought down her sword, cleaving his hand from his
arm between the wrist and forearm.

He let out a terrible scream and his feet went from
under him. He landed on the floor clutching the end of his arm and
scrambled back to the wall behind him. He stared at the wound a
moment and then up at Socair, blood gushing onto his smallclothes.
"Haa! Haa! Bitch."