Rob Scott - The Larion Senators

Milla laughed; there was no mistaking it this time. You tricked me, silly. The band tightened, and Gilmour tried to remain calm. There was no need to hold his breath. He was perfectly safe; he hoped. Then Milla’s grip loosened – it was a hug, that’s all, a mystical hug imbued with more energy and focused magical power than Gilmour had ever seen in a novice sorcerer, never mind one less than fifty Twinmoons old.

All right, I trust you. Can you tell him to stay in Pellia, right where you are? Tell him that Fantus is coming in the next Moon. Will you remember that?

Of course. He could almost see a smug, pouting toddler with a mop of tousled unruly hair looking back at him in disbelief. That’s not hard.

Tell it back to me, then.

Milla sighed. There was no doubt about it, either. It was a sigh, an impossible sigh, just like her impossible laughter. Larion Senators worked for Twinmoons to be able to do what this little girl had accomplished twice in one spell, never mind her ability to reach up and grasp Gilmour’s essence out of the sky.

I’ll tell him that we have to wait here, right at this place, because Fantus… that’s you… is coming in the next Moon.

Excellent work, Pepperweed.

Are you going to call me that, too?

Do you want me to?

Yeah, I guess so.

Well then, Pepperweed, you should call me Gilmour.

That’s a funny name.

Yes, I suppose it is.

Do you have to go now?

Sorry, but I do. I’m not very good at this, and I will need to sleep for a long time to get my strength back.

Will you come talk to me another day?

Why don’t I come and see you in person?

Milla laughed again, a twinkling of delicate chimes rising from the boarding house to find him hovering outside. That would be nice.

And Milla -

What?

Will you tell Hannah that Steven is coming, too?

I guess so.

Thank you, my dear.

Goodbye Fan – uh, Gilmour.

Goodbye, Pepperweed.

When she released him, Gilmour felt the extent of his fatigue. Nauseous, he closed his eyes, hoped he wouldn’t vomit and tumbled all the way from Pellia to Wellham Ridge.

Erynn brought drinks: beer for everyone, milk for Milla. On her way back to the Wayfarer’s kitchen, she paused to talk with a young soldier, a boy, no more than fifteen or twenty Twinmoons her senior, and looking like a child playing at dressing up in his father’s infantry uniform. He was alone, eating a bowl of stew with a loaf of bread and a tankard of beer. Hoyt watched as he reached out, surreptitiously, to touch the scullery girl’s hand. Erynn turned towards the bar, saw her father, and shifted her tray, effectively pulling herself out of range. The boy slid forward on his chair, said something Hoyt couldn’t hear, smiled, and then shrugged. She checked her father again, frowned, and hurried back to the kitchen, calling out food orders. In her handmade tunic and soiled apron she looked to Hoyt like a girl condemned to being plain for life. The avens, the smoke, the scullery basins and the nimble-fingered drunks had already left irreparable marks.

‘She needs to be careful of that one,’ Hoyt said.

‘What’s that?’ Hannah asked.

‘Erynn.’ Hoyt nodded towards the soldier. ‘That boy over there is practically bursting out of that uniform for her. Gods, look at him in that carnival suit. I have boots older than he is. He looks like he spent all morning… polishing himself!’

‘Hoyt,’ Alen grimaced, ‘not in front of Milla.’

‘What?’ Hoyt smirked guiltily. ‘I’m just saying he looks like he spent a lot of time shining up that uniform.’

‘I’ll talk with her,’ Hannah promised, ‘but can we get back to it?’ She had been reeling from Milla’s announcement that Gilmour had contacted her that morning. Conflicting feelings of joy and frustration threatened to drive Hannah mad: she wanted more information, now, about how and when the Ronans would arrive. Had Steven asked about her? Was he happy? Healthy? Looking forward to seeing her again? Alen was especially stunned, because he had slept through the entire conversation, never sensing even a flicker of his former colleague’s presence.

‘Get back to what?’ Hoyt said. ‘We know they’re coming, but we don’t know when or how, whether they’ll come overland or via the Northeast Channel. My guess is that it’ll be by sea from Orindale: there’s going to be a barrel of traffic through that passage with the Twinmoon looming. Anyone could sign on to almost anything that floats, and as long as they can get through the blockade, they’ll arrive in Pellia without a wrinkle.’

‘He’s right,’ Alen said, ‘but it worries me that Fantus-’

‘Gilmour,’ Milla interrupted, sipping her milk.

‘Sorry, Gilmour, that he didn’t say anything about the table or the key.’

‘Don’t let it bother you, Alen,’ Hoyt said. ‘If they have it, they’ll figure out how to get it here. If they don’t, then there must be some good reason for them to make the trip up the Ravenian Sea. Either way, this isn’t going to be a social call; he’s up to something, and we need to stay here until he arrives.’

Milla pouted, her eyes welling with tears.

‘What’s the matter, sweetie?’ Hannah whispered.

‘Alen said we were going to see my mama.’

‘Oh, we are, sweetie,’ Hannah assured. ‘We are. I promise. Alen promises. We just have to wait a bit longer; some special friends are coming here to meet us first.’

Milla perked up. ‘Gilmour, right? I talked to him; he’s funny. I thought he was going to fall backwards, but he didn’t; I caught him.’

‘You did what, Pepperweed?’ Alen asked.

Milla shrugged and tilted her goblet, trying to catch the last drops of milk on her tongue. ‘I had to catch him; he was going to fall.’

Alen’s brow furrowed. I had to catch him?

Hannah said, ‘So this means we can stop looking for a transport south?’

‘Right.’ Alen waved to Erynn, who was back talking with the young soldier.

‘Oh, good,’ Hoyt sighed. ‘That schooner captain was driving me strange-to-silly with his blather about a Falkan plot to rig the chain-ball championships next Twinmoon – I’d have drowned myself in the bilge by the time we reached Orindale.’

Milla giggled, echoing, ‘Strange-to-silly.’

‘So?’ Hannah asked, ‘What do we do? Just wait?’

Erynn came up behind them, her ubiquitous serving tray held at the ready.

Hoyt, not noticing the girl there, said simply, ‘No, we don’t just wait. We bury them, as many as we can without getting caught. And I suggest we start with the horsecocks running shipments along that highway.’

‘We can’t risk Milla,’ Alen said. Mention of terrorism had him immediately on edge, worried about the child prodigy.

‘No risks,’ Hoyt assured. ‘She’ll be here; she’ll be fine. It’ll be just you and me.’

Erynn cleared her throat. ‘Are you ready for some food this aven? Or can I bring you more beer?’

Hoyt and Alen exchanged a nervous glance. Hannah, smiling sweetly, said, ‘Another three beers, please, Erynn, and another milk for our driver here.’

‘All right,’ Erynn said, glancing sheepishly at Hoyt. ‘I’ll be right back.’

Hoyt forced a smile, blushing.

Hannah rescued him. ‘And Erynn, maybe later, when you’re done for the night, you and I can talk a bit.’

‘Really?’ Erynn’s eyes widened. ‘I’d love that – what about? Just… I mean we can just-’

Hannah pointedly looked over at the young soldier and smiled.

‘Oh,’ Erynn said, ‘oh, yes. All right, I’ll be done after the dinner aven.’

‘I’ll be here,’ Hannah said, giving the girl a reassuring squeeze on the forearm.