Ashencroft

Chapter 5

After weeks of inactivity, the city guard once again had their hands full as the shipment of food from the outside circulated around the streets. Though they tried to keep things quiet, the first inkling people had of the creak of wagon wheels sent them all outside to clamor for their share. The crowd grew until it became difficult for the caravans to pass to the next stops; as their mobility decreased the guards stepped up their efforts to keep people back. It seemed that the weeks of starvation were actually a good thing, in this case, as the townsfolk were not strong enough to put up any real resistence. Even so, it was a long and grueling night for everyone involved, from the guards to the wagon-drivers to the merchants, who were grateful beyond measure for the shipment of food that was delivered to their doors.

Captain Grey had overseen the operation personally, keen to be there should the operation descend into chaos. Fortunately, the comparative weakness of the crowds coupled with their gradual thinning as they began to clamour at the stores instead of the wagons meant that by the end of their route they were left relatively alone. The train had gone from being heavily guarded to operating under a skeleton escort as guards had been posted to the larger merchants to keep the peace as they passed. Twelve officers only were left by the time they stumbled back to the city guard barracks at the end of the all-night shift.

"Dawn soon, officers - you'd better keep to your bunks, rest here until morning bell," Grey instructed them, beginning to efficiently strip off her own armour - the only guard who appeared unfatigued. "Good work tonight. Those of you with shifts before tomorrow evening are excused from duty - mark it on the roster and we'll rearrange to suit."

The remaining men and women waited until they were dismissed and then turned as a whole to saunter back towards the barracks wearily. Despite their obvious tiredness there was still an undercurrent of excitement as they discussed the food and what it might mean for the siege should more caravans be allowed through.

Grey waiting until she was alone before letting out a weary sigh, sitting heavily down at the large desk in the guardroom. The inventory still lay in front of her, now covered with tiny markings in multiple different hands that she would have the unlucky task of deciphering. Resting her arms on the desk, Grey dropped her head into them, closing her eyes.

She was awoken some time later by the soft touch of a hand on her arm; when she opened her eyes she saw that the room was dim, the single candle flickering low on the desk. Siva was there, already moving to fetch a fresh taper to replace it.

"Shit..." she murmured, sitting up, rubbing at her gritty eyes. Chinks of light were filtering through the closed shutters of the guard house. "What time is it?"

"It's getting towards dawn. Most everyone has returned by now, though a few have stayed at some of the larger shops until the morning."

"Lear handled them all right, then? No one came in and found me asleep, did they?"

"Don't worry," Wynn said, smiling as she lit the new candle from the old stump and replaced it in the holder. "You're safe. And besides, you earned the rest. Though I wish you had found a bunk for it."

"I wanted to get through this inventory." Grey straightened, rolling her head on her neck and groaning as her joints crackled.

"It'll keep."

Running a hand through her light brown hair, Grey yawned, closing her eyes against the throbbing in her head. She had already been coming to the end of a double shift when the shipment had arrived, but there would be more trouble today, no doubt. "You should find a bunk yourself, get some more rest."

Shaking her head, Wynn continued to tidy the table, tucking away the unnecessary bits of paper and the various weapons that tended to get scattered about over the course of the day. "I had a few hours."

"I don't appreciate it when my officers lie to me, Wynn," Grey deadpanned.

The shorter woman grinned, sweeping her hand over the table to brush it off. "I'm not the one with the triple shift under her belt."

"I have responsibilities. It's not your job to watch my back."

"I'd imagine those responsibilities would go much more smoothly if the person responsible for them gets some sleep once and a while."

"Gods, Siva, don't start with this, I'm too tired..."

"Proving my point exactly. Go, get some sleep."

Grey sighed, pushing herself up from the desk. As she lifted her hands from it she swayed momentarily, and was forced to lean forward again. She glared at Wynn, daring her to comment.

"Let me amend that. Eat something, then go and get some sleep," the other woman said reprovingly.

"Siva..."

"I really don't think it would be good for the rest of the guard to see one of their own force-feeding the captain, do you?"

Grey might at another time have chuckled at this, but this time she simply continued to look utterly exhausted.

"Sit down," Siva said, pointing at the chair. "I'll fetch food."

The captain only nodded, her argumentative streak deserting her, and she sank back into her seat.

By the time Siva arrived with a tray of food, she had dozed off again.

"'Randa, wake up," the shorter woman murmured, setting the tray on the table and leaning down to brush the strands of hair out of the captain's face.

Before Siva could even react she felt a vice-like grip on her wrist, and Captain Grey had opened her eyes. A moment later, of course, she realised where she was. "Sorry," she muttered, her grip on Siva's hand loosening, though she didn't immediately let go. "Sorry."

"Quite alright," Siva said good-naturedly, smiling. "I brought some food and water for you. It looks very good."

"Anything would, right about now."

"So you'll eat?"

"Yes, constable. I'll eat."

"Good." Siva slipped her hand out of Wynn's, nudging the plate towards the edge of the table. "How long do you think all this food will last?" she inquired then, leaning against the table and crossing her arms.

"For the households that actually managed to get any? Two weeks at most I'd say. And that's to say nothing of the thousands of homes that will continue to go without."

"It's really not much of a windfall then, is it?"

"It's Hope, Siva. Even the starving will feed from that for a while."

"I suppose so."

"You kept back what I instructed for the guard house?"

"Yes, Captain," Siva said, inclining her head slightly. "It's been locked away as you ordered."

"Well, then, I suppose all that's left is for me to account for everything on this..." Randa said, pulling the inventory back towards her even as she chewed on her bread.

Siva reached out to stop her, placing a hand flat on the sheet. "That's not necessary now. It will all still be there tomorrow."

"It is tomorrow..."

"Not until you've slept it isn't."

"That's a twisted logic."

"'Randa, please."

"I'll leave it, all right? You really try my patience sometimes, you know that?"

"Yes, I know," Siva said patiently.

"Impudent whelp."

"I'm only a year younger than you."

"I feel a lot older."

"If you din't work so much..."

"Are you about to tell me you don't work? Because as your captain..."

Siva smiled. "I do my duties, captain. You know that."

"Above and beyond at times. I know."

"Including making sure you don't work your fool head off," she said, nudging the mug of water towards the other woman. "Which should be a job in and of itself."

"And you'll never make it past constable if you don't stop spending half your time worrying about me instead of your job. I do have a valet you know."

"Not a very good one. This room was a mess," Siva said disapprovingly. "I'd rather you were sane and healthy than I received a promotion."

"I'd have to be insane to promote you," Randa said, smiling wearily.

"Some would argue that you already were. Not me, of course."

"Hold your tongue, officer, you're already on thin ice."

"Yes, captain." It was hard to look respectful with such an expression of adoration on her face; Siva barely managed. "Have some more water."

Randa glanced up again, her countenance melting a little when she saw Siva's face. "You too. Sit down, eat with me."

Nodding, Siva pulled out a chair next to the other woman's, picking up a slice of apple from the plate and taking a bite. "I spoke with the caravan leader briefly. Said a tall stranger contacted him in Firvale and told him to prepare a shipment. Promised payment from the Council on delivery."

"A tall stranger..."

"Fits the description, as much as there is one. Couldn't tell me a name, though."

"I wonder..." Randa sipped at her water thoughtfully, brow furrowing. "My father said nothing about it."

"Either the stranger was acting on their orders, in which case it's understandable he wouldn't say, as any sort of rumor could set off wild speculation and riots, or the stranger was acting alone. It seems odd they would do that, though... what sort of price could they demand for all this?"

"Let's hope it's one we can meet."

Dia wasn't sure what had woken her up at first. The city was still silent in the early hours - while there was no doubt a flurry of activity still among the food stores, it would not reach Dia's quiet sidestreet. Pale pre-dawn light filtered through the thick cloth that hung over the windows, fluttering gently in the breeze through the cracks in the ancient window frame.

Then it came again. A quiet knock at her chamber door.

Sliding her bare feet out from under the blankets, the girl pushed them off and sat up, frowning in confusion at her bedroom door. Her sister would have just come in if there was something she needed, and Artur still wasn't strong enough to move about unaided, which meant that Dia had no idea who it could be. Wearing nothing but her shift she crossed the room, hesitating a moment before pulling open the door.

Standing before her was the tall, familiar figure of Orr, clad in her shirt and leggings, hair down for once, hanging down her back in loose waves. For a moment neither spoke.

"Is something the matter?" Dia finally asked, squinting even at the soft light from the hallway.

"No, not as such." Orr blinked, glancing past Dia's shoulder for a moment before her dark eyes locked back on her face. "I may have to go away for a bit. I won't see you for a while. I wanted to say goodbye."

"You're leaving? To where? No one can get out of the city, the siege..."

"I can."

"How? And where will you go?" Dia frowned, reaching up to tuck her tousled hair behind her ears. "Will it be safe?"

Orr shook her head. "It's best that you don't know, Dia. I have work to do. I will be safe."

"Oh. Well. I'm glad." Dia tried to smile. "When will you return?"

"I don't know. It could be only a few days, or it could be weeks."

Nodding, the dark-haired girl shifted, crossing her arms. "Thank you for telling me."

"I would have told you last night. But..." Orr shrugged.

"I was talking too much?"

One of those rare smiles appeared again. "Not exactly. I was enjoying your conversation. I didn't want to spoil the mood."

"If I had known you were leaving I would have..."

Orr's lip twitched. "There you go again," she observed softly, waiting.

Dia blushed, ducking her head and looking down at her bare toes peeping out from the hem of her shift. "I'm afraid I don't know exactly what I was going to say. Insist you take the bed, probably, as you should be well-rested before your journey."

She wasn't sure if it was her imagination as she looked up that Orr had leaned a little closer. "I knew I was going, and I told you that would not allow you to leave your own bed for me."

"Then I would have had to drag you in with me," came the somewhat nervous reply.

Orr said nothing to this at first, letting the silence stretch out between them until it moved from uncomfortable to torturous.

"Had you found the courage, I might have let you," the dark haired woman murmured softly.

Dia let out the breath she had been holding, unable to tear her gaze away from the other woman's face. "Why didn't you... say something?"

"As a guest in your house?"

"Oh."

Orr waited another long moment. Eventually she shrugged. "I suppose I'll see you again at some point, then."

"Wait, please..." Dia dropped her hands to her sides, stepping forward until she was almost nose-to-nose with the taller woman.

Orr blinked calmly down at Dia, unmoving. "I'm waiting, Dia," she said quietly.

Licking her lips, the young woman shut her eyes tightly, steeling herself before she opened them again and gazed up at Orr. "I wish you didn't have to go," she murmured, moments before leaning in to press her lips to the other woman's.

She felt another of Orr's infrequent smiles against her mouth as the woman wrapped first one arm around her, and then the other as their kiss deepened.

Sighing, Dia pressed herself against Orr tightly. It had been many years since she had felt the touch of another person in anything but a sisterly pat on the shoulder or friendly shake of the hand, and she suddenly found that she was starving for more.

It seemed, though, that it was not to be, for a moment later the other woman had drawn back, her kisses growing shallower until they were chaste pecks, and she slowly dropped her arms from around Dia. "I have to go."

"No..." Dia's fingers all but dug into Orr's sides until she forced herself to pull them back. "So soon?"

"Time grows short. I'm sorry."

Nodding mutely, Dia stepped back, once again crossing her arms over her chest as if trying to restrain herself from latching onto Orr to hold her back.

For a moment it looked as though Orr might lean in for another kiss, but then she simply turned, and made her way silently back down the stairs.

When her figure had disappeared from the hallway Dia closed the door softly and returned to her bed, crawling among the sheets and blankets and resting her cheek on the pillow. She was still tired, despite the excitement of the past few minutes, and as she drifted off to sleep she did so with her fingers pressed to her lips, where Orr's had been not long before.

Councilor Eaton paced the long hall, the slightly worn edge of his tunic brushing against the smooth marble floor in a hypnotic swsh-swsh-swsh. The rest of the Council was likely celebrating the arrival of the caravan and the revival of the town's spirits; everyone but him seemed to have forgotten about the price they were due to pay in return for such miracles. It had been a week to the day since the smooth-faced young man had arrived in Ashencroft, and even someone as far-removed from the daily life of the city as Eaton could not help but hear the rumors that had sprung up since then. Many of the town's artisans had reported visits and boons from a mysterious individual, and the old man knew with certainty that these were the people that would be asked to leave upon the breaking of the seige. Though he could not deny that they needed the stranger's help, nor was he comfortable with the price they would have to pay.

"It can be done."

The voice echoed across the hall as Lord Alyth appeared in the doorway, looking exactly as he had the previous week - long dark cloak, aristocratic, youthful air.

Eaton turned, watching the young man approach him where he stood, next to the very same picture window they had looked out of last time they met. "I am happy to hear of your confidence," he said, though he did nothing to hide the worry in his eyes.

"I've also met a number of artisans who would be most welcome in joining me in my journey home," Alyth said, turning to look out of the window at the city beneath them.

"You have not said anything to them, have you?" Eaton asked anxiously.

"About my reason for speaking to them?" Alyth shook his head. "I'm as good as my word, Eaton - I would have thought you'd know that by now. No, they know nothing, yet. But you must visit them yourself, and speak to them - one by one, just as I did. I will accompany you, or not, as you please."

"Of course. As soon as the Council comes to a decision about the method by which the siege is ended. Then I will speak with them."

"Would you like this, then?" Alyth held out a piece of parchment containing a neat handwritten list.

Nodding, Eaton reached out to take the list, his eyes skimming down the parchment quickly. As he reached the end his hand gave a visible tremor and he looked up quickly, face coloring. "What is the meaning of this?"

Alyth's expression did not flicker. "I think you know."

"Sir, I cannot allow this... my daughter is not an artisan who makes her living by a trade. This was not part of our agreement."

"Our agreement said nothing of the persons in question making a living. Your daughter is a musician."

"She is a girl," Eaton said, nostrils flaring. "She knows nothing of the world outside this city. I will not allow her to be taken away from her home."

Alyth breathed in slowly through his nose, finally turning to look at the Councillor. "Lord Eaton, we had an agreement. I have shown good faith in seeing a shipment of food safely into this city. You would be ill-advised to back down on it now. You have no choice in the matter. If you will not see it done, then one of your fellow Councilmen will - as I'm sure you realise."

Eaton opened his mouth to protest, but knew even as he did that it was futile. What Alyth said was true. "Perhaps I cannot stop you. But I can ask, as a father..." He took a deep breath, letting his hands fall at his side. "Please. I beg you. Find another musician. Leave Ales out of this."

"Only Ales can make that choice. I told you before that no one would be forced to come away with me."

Sighing, the older man let his shoulders slump, his eyes once again drifting to look out the window at the city. "Very well," he said then in a monotone. "I will meet with you tomorrow, to give you the Council's decision. And to begin speaking with the artisans."

Alyth nodded, adding only, "Dawn is breaking, sir. You would do well to get some rest."

Impertinent young... "Goodnight, Lord Alyth."