Cymru - Chapter 35

AERONA

Aerona had met and worked with a few Intelligencers in her time, but Dylan's technique was fascinating. She was used to seeing the chameleon approach, as so successfully demonstrated by Awen; you slipped yourself seamlessly into whatever character best suited the situation, never arousing suspicion and obtaining the intelligence almost by simply being there. Dylan, though, remained resolutely himself. People seemed to crumble in the face of such fearsome quirkiness. And when backed up by Adara, who wasn't an Intelligencer but had a level of quirk all of her own, they got results astonishingly fast. Within half an hour of prowling Tregwylan's lower levels and offices Aerona was holding a file containing the official Phoenician trade agreement and enough receipts to threaten a forest.

"Excellent!" she said happily as they left the final office with the final bewildered clerk. "That was much faster than I expected. Ooh, could we go and see my children a minute? Just so I can remind them all to behave."

"We ran into some children in Casnewydd and Awen told them about the time I decapitated a man with my bare hands," Adara said mildly to Dylan's snort. Aerona stared at her.

"You did what?"

"Well, I didn't actually because my fingers aren't razors," Adara shrugged. "It's what she tells people, though."

"But why would-?"

"Because she decapitated him with cheesewire," Dylan grinned. His grin had become distinctly disquieting with the black scarring around his eyes. "Adara is win."

"Why did you even have cheesewire?" Aerona giggled, and Adara gave her a pained look.

"I was making snares out of it, okay?" she said defensively. "It makes for a quicker and therefore more pleasant kill. And it was there in my pocket."

"We should tell your bantam humans," Dylan told Aerona as they turned the corner to the classroom. The happy sounds of children at play were spilling out of the open doorway ahead. "Then we can tell them to either behave in your absense or Adara will take their thumbs."

"Their thumbs?" Aerona regarded him for a moment. "Was that a threat used on you as a child?"

Dylan put on his morose face.

"All the time," he said in his best victim's voice. "By Madog. He abuses me so, Aerona. And sometimes he touches me."

"And you love it," Adara sniffed. Dylan laughed. "I told Owain once that after you die you come back as either a cat or a brick depending on whether you were cool or not, and he'd therefore be a brick. It took five druids to convince him I was lying."

"Awesome!" Dylan said brightly. "Hey, I'm telling Madog that. And Menna. She owes me a pint."

"Will she be a cat once she's paid up?" Aerona giggled, but before they had chance to hear his answer they'd walked through the door, and a waist-high wave of children surged at them.

"Miss! Miss, have you been fighting Saxons again?"

"You've been gone ages!"

"Weeks!"

"Three days," Siona corrected quietly, but no one listened.

"Miss, you know them Saxons? Were you fighting them?"

"Look miss, I fell over! Didn't cry, though."

"She didn't. She was good, miss."

"Hello, Riders."

The last was Bronwen, solemnly, Saluting Adara and Dylan with wide eyes. The others fell quiet and followed suit, staring. Which was fair, Aerona considered. Dylan's eyes were rather intimidating right now, and Adara had a bird perched on one shoulder. Dylan grinned, and Saluted lazily back.

"Hello, mini-Riders," he said, which earned him the love of the class. Adara simply smiled and Saluted. Clearly, she wasn't one for children.

"Everyone," Aerona said, pulling their attention away. "This is Dylan, Deputy of the Alpha Wing in Wrecsam, and this is Adara, who does the same job for Casnewydd at the moment."

Morgan's hand shot upwards, narrowly missing Siona's ear.

"Miss!" he said, eagerly. "Were you fighting the Saxons again?"

"Yes," Aerona said. Happily, it was half the truth. "Yes, I was-"

"With us," Dylan grinned. "She killed at least thirty by herself, too. And she got injured."

Ten faces turned adoring stares onto Aerona, who winced.

"Thanks," she told him reproachfully. "Now-"

"Miss, that's awesome!"

"Where were you injured?"

"Did you cry?"

"Of course not, she's a Rider, Morgan..."

"Were they scary, miss?"

"Did you nearly die?"

"Enough!" Aerona laughed, and they fell attentively quiet. "Thank you. Now; have you all been good in the meantime?"

"Yes, miss," they chorused. Aerona beamed, and wondered privately if it was true.

"Excellent!" she said. Beside her, Adara elbowed Dylan as he opened his mouth. "Well done! And what's that, Carys?"

"We made it for you, miss!"

She held up a large square of paper covered in an amateurish painting of what were presumably merod, unless the children had decided to try their hands at flying cows or pigs. Riders were on their backs, each with a carefully blank face; as near as Aerona could tell from the coloured blobs that were hair, they'd painted themselves and her. A sprig of what could have been rowan berries had been included in the corner.

"It's beautiful!" Aerona said, taking it carefully. Ten faces beamed at her. "And are these berries safe to eat?"

"Yes miss, because they have no waxy leaves and no milky sap," Morgan said proudly.

"Very good," Aerona said approvingly, giving him a hug. It turned into a group hug, somewhat predictably, although Bronwen's arm pressed against Aerona's shoulder blade, still not quite healed from Cas-Gwent. She ignored the flash of pain, and smiled.

"Anyway," she said, disengaging herself carefully, "it was lovely seeing you all but I'm afraid I have to leave again."

The chorus of 'Noooo!' was wildly endearing, although the crestfallen faces made her feel guilty.

"Can't we go with you, miss?" Morgan asked plaintively, and Aerona giggled.

"No, my lovely, you can't," she said gently. "I'm going nowhere fun. But I'll be back soon. After the Archwiliad, probably."

"Can't we come to the Archwiliad, miss?" Bronwen asked, and Aerona grinned.

"What did I just say?" she laughed. "No you can't. Now, go on. Back to class! I need to be off."

They scampered obediently away and Aerona sighed, turning back to the others. Dylan was rubbing his ribs pointedly at Adara, who was ignoring him and stroking the red kite sitting on her shoulder.

"Okay!" Aerona said brightly. "We can go. At least three of them now want to own birds, though, and Morgan and Carys will probably spend the rest of the afternoon painting their eyes like yours, Dylan."

"Excellent," Adara said mildly. "Then our subversive quest is complete."

"I like your picture," Dylan said, looking at the painting in Aerona's hands. "It looks just like you."

"Yes, I'm frequently told about how I have no face," Aerona agreed. "Anyway. Shall we?"

"To the Union!" Adara said. "And then a road trip, like the excitings we are."

"Actually, not quite yet," Dylan grinned. "There's one last person we need to see."

****************

"Now, his name is Hannibal," Dylan said knowingly as he knocked on the door of one of the nicer tradesmen's quarters. "He's very tall, because all they do all day in Nubia is grow. Try not to stare, he'll think we're ingrates, and Madog already told him I'm one."

"Wingleaders, eh?" Adara said. "Mine tells people I'm psychotic, yours tells people you're an ingrate."

"Yeah," Dylan said. "And yet, when they think you're dead, oh how do they cry."

"Mine tells people I play too many games," Aerona said sadly. "I just never understand. How can you play too many games?"

"Oh," Dylan said, snapping his fingers. "I is forgetful. Madog says he likes Riders."

"A good quality in a Wingleader if ever I heard one," Adara said mildly, and dodged as Dylan went to clip her around the ear.

"Hannibal likes Riders," he corrected her sternly. "As well you know. What are you, twelve?"

The door opened, and Aerona looked up. Dylan hadn't been joking. This man was tall. The top of her head reached his chest.

He was also incredibly exotic looking. He wore a robe made of cotton in deep reds and greens, expensive and impeccably well-wrapped around a broad frame that spoke of someone who spent most of their time manning a ship; a good sign, given that he was clearly rich enough to afford slaves. His skin was beautiful, velvet-black with an almost purple sheen, revealing a strongly-sculpted face with full nose and lips beneath his black and gold eyes. Three small gold hoops were threaded through his nose, more lining both ears with a slim chain hanging from his right earlobe. His hair was black and long, braided entirely and hanging to his shoulder blades.

He saw Dylan and his black-and-gold eyes lit up.

"Rider!" he said pleasantly, his voice so deep it could have vibrated a window. "It is a joy to see you again, my friend! To what must I owe the honour?"

And he bowed. Dylan took half a step back.

"Dammit, he warned me you'd do that," Dylan muttered. "I just didn't believe him. Hello, Hannibal, this is Aerona and this is Adara. Can we come in, please?"

"Certainly!" Hannibal stepped aside, grinning broadly as he gestured them in. "And it is a pleasure to meet you both, my friends. Would you care for tea? It is freshly made."

"Ooh, you're my kind of host," Aerona giggled, following Dylan in. "I think I could drink a lake's worth of tea a day."

"Ah! Myself as well," Hannibal said, his eyes twinkling as he shut the door softly behind them and moved gracefully to the table set up beneath the window where another man, similarly dressed but not as tall, was already calmly preparing additional cups. "And this is Ezana, one of my trading partners. Do sit! We have sugar, if you wish."

"Really?" Adara asked mildly. "There's indulgents you are. How luxurious."

"Who's buying it?" Dylan the Intelligencer asked interestedly, taking a seat with the air of someone used to sitting wherever he damn well liked and instantly making himself at home. Hannibal smiled, pouring out the tea.

"No one, as of yet," he said. "It is a personal supply. This is one point of many I would dearly love to discuss with your Union, in fact. But we digress. Might I ask what has become of your eyes?"

"I fought an evil druid until rescued by Aerona," Dylan said, and Aerona blushed. "Where's sugar from?"

"India," Hannibal said, pulling out chairs. He waved Aerona into one beside him and handed her a cup. "Or this particular sugar is. This is cane sugar. We wish to discuss beet sugar, however. But again, we digress! What brings such disparate Riders to me, my friends?"

"Madog's glowing praises," Dylan said indifferently. "We all want a go," and yelped as Adara managed to smack him about the head.

"The Audiences, actually," she said, giving Dylan a pointed look. "We have a proposition for you."

"Indeed?" Hannibal asked, his face alight with interest. Ezana straightened on the other side of Dylan. "And that would be?"

Dylan glanced at Aerona.

"She's your Sovereign," he smirked. "Unlucky. Go on."

"We'd like to offer you a chance to be a witness against an improperly behaving Sovereign," Aerona said happily. "Lady Gwenda, specifically, who has been selling weapons to Saxonia through Phoenicians. We've got the receipts, the serial numbers, the trade logs, the copy of the trade agreement and a sword plucked from a Saxon's cold, dead hands -"

"That was a good moment," Dylan grinned reminiscently.

"But we'd like someone to act as an expert witness to confirm that the serial numbers and such mean what we say they do," Aerona finished, ignoring him. "Um, particularly if you have any evidence to back it up. We don't want any shipping secrets," she added hastily as Hannibal opened his mouth. "Um, and don't feel pressured. If you do it we can guarentee you the Phoenician Audience, but we won't definitely take it away from you if you don't."

"This will guarentee us the Audience?" Ezana said, his eyebrows shooting upwards. "Truly? Simply confirming the route numbers and such?"

"Yeah, if you want it," Dylan sniffed. "It's boring, though, I'd say no. Sugary tea is nice."

"You have the attention span of half a kitten," Adara told him without rancour. Dylan grinned.

"I bet you say that to all the boys and girls," he said. Aerona sighed, and Hannibal laughed at her expression.

"Fascinating," he said, amused. "Madog reacted in much the same way to Dylan, you know. Yes, is my answer. I will speak for you, gladly. I would have done so without the promise of an Audience! I have our copy of the master book of Carthaginian trading; it contains the route numbers for all of the west. It should be sufficient."

"Yes!" Aerona clapped her hands, and threw her arms around Hannibal's neck. "Thank you! Now we can get her cautioned at least!"

"You are most welcome, my friend," Hannibal said merrily, gathering her firmly into his arms. They were quite possibly the same size as Aerona's head. "And you have done me a great favour also! This is one of my dreams."

"We can get you there today," Aerona said, disengaging herself. "We're going back to the Union now anyway, so we'll send a Carriage on to you. Unless you want to wait a bit."

"I cannot imagine he will," Ezana said wryly, and Dylan snorted.

"Yeah," he said. "Part of the deal is that you have to give me a sworn statement that Madog's really bad in bed, by the way."

Hannibal laughed again. Aerona could have sworn her tea rippled.

"I have told you before, my friend!" he said, amused. "I cannot! He was greatly impressive and I enjoyed it immensely."

"Surely you know, anyway?" Adara said, turning to Dylan and raising an eyebrow. "Clearly you and Madog have -"

"Yes," Dylan said irritably, waving a hand. "But no one believes me if I say he's bad in bed. Apparently, I'm not trustworthy or something."

"Well, you're not, in fairness," Adara said reasonably. "You call each other losers even when you're knee-deep in Saxons, like crazy people."

"I'm a tireless crusader for spreading the truth," Dylan shrugged. "Don't take his side. Anyway, he wanted me to say: what variations? I don't know what he's talking about."

Hannibal looked down at the cup in his hands, smiling.

"Tell him," he said carefully, "that there will be more knots. And that I'm honoured."

"By Madog? You're not," Dylan said decisively, downing the last of his tea. "It's a punishment. But clearly you have low standards."

"Perhaps we should have done this without you, Dylan," Aerona said. "Certainly I think we'd have made a more professional impression."

"Like bankers," Adara nodded sagaciously, and Aerona blinked.

"Perhaps I should have done this alone," she amended. "Although, if the subject of games comes up I'm a lost cause too. Perhaps we should have just made Awen and Madog do this."

"Is Madog well, now?" Hannibal asked suddenly. "When I met him he was worried about someone."

It was tiny - so tiny only Aerona, with all her extra training, picked it up - but Dylan froze for the smallest, briefest of moments.

"Yeah," he said dismissively. "He's his usual bubbly self. Which isn't much different from the version you met, because he's a loser and it weighs heavily on him."

"Who was he worried about?" Adara asked with mild interest. Dylan sniffed.

"One of our Riders," he said, his eyes catching Aerona's for an instant before tumbling away. "He's a loser too. Anyway, we need to roll."

"Yes, I suppose," Aerona sighed. She was rather enjoying herself, especially since she was back home. The background noise of the sea was like an old friend. She finished her tea. "We'll send you a Carriage today. A few hours, I'd have said."

"You honour us, Riders," Hannibal said, standing with them and bowing again, causing Adara to back away nervously. Aerona bowed back. "Truly. You cannot imagine what this means to us."

"Especially to Hannibal," Ezana purred, and held out a small paper bag to Aerona. "Here. It is sugar. Enjoy it, with our thanks."

************

They had a following wind for most of the flight back to the Union, so it was a mere two hours later that Aerona found herself at the door of Councillor Rhydian's office, a bulging file full of paper in one hand and knocking the door with the other while Dylan lurked over her shoulder with the Saxon sword. There was a short pause, then Rhydian's muffled voice drifted out.

"Come in!" he called merrily. Aerona put her hand on the doorknob and was about to open it when Dylan's hand descended over hers, halting her firmly. She looked up and he grinned wickedly at her, jerking his head to motion her behind him. Aerona obeyed. Like in the temple in Casnewydd, Dylan had lost his slightly scatty edge, a focus entering him that spoke of his shift into alert mode. Belatedly, she remembered whose office she was entering, and stepped back.

It was a good job she did. Dylan shoved the door open and stepped confidently through, ducking and punching out with his right arm as he went. Something bladed flew across the visible space of the doorway at head height, harmlessly passing above Dylan, while a yelp suggested that someone had just made contact. Dylan disappeared from view for a moment, and then a muffled thump echoed back.

"I yield," Rhydian said happily. "Well done."

Aerona stepped into the room cautiously and looked down. Dylan was sitting squarely on Rhydian's back, twisting one arm up between his shoulder blades and firmly gripping the back of Rhydian's neck with another hand. He sniffed and climbed off as Aerona stifled a giggle and shut the door, Rhydian getting up and massaging his arm.

"Owned you," Dylan said indifferently, swinging himself into a seat with the same irreverence he'd displayed with Hannibal earlier. It was being in an Alpha Wing, Aerona supposed. It probably did wonders for your attitude. Rhydian laughed as he rounded the desk, gesturing Aerona into her own chair.

"You did!" he said jovially. "It's fine, I'll get you back. What have you got for me?"

"Evidence against Lady Gwenda!" Aerona said, passing the file across. "Trade logs, shipping manifests, route numbers, the trade agreement, one Phoenician expert on the way who can confirm the routes and a sword."

"Excellent work," Rhydian said thoughtfully, opening the file and scanning a few pages. Dylan laid the sword carefully on the desk. "Well, that's more than enough for a caution, so the next five years will be pretty miserable for her at the very least. The witness?"

"His name is Hannibal," Aerona said helpfully. "He's got the Phoenician Audience. But he's willing to show his big official book of route numbers for us, so it's okay."

"He's not a slave trader, is he?" Rhydian asked suspiciously. "He doesn't expect us to sell him disused Wings in return?"

"No, he's weird," Dylan broke in. "He doesn't use slaves and he bows to Riders and stuff. Madog says he has a fetish."

"I think he wants to talk about sugar," Aerona added. "Er... beet sugar instead of cane sugar, he said. Or something."

"Hmm." Rhydian snapped the file closed and nodded. "Seems like an odd but upstanding fellow, anyway. Alright, get out and bring me Owain Masarnen's cringing, snivelling form. Alive, mind. We've got plans for that lad."

"Yeah, but," Dylan wheedled, "you don't need, say, his knee caps? Hamstrings? Fingers?"

"You let him bleed out and I'll have your fingers, Rider," Rhydian said pointedly. "Do what you have to. But bring him here alive, fully alive, and in a fit enough state for others to have their fun too. Your claim isn't as great."

"Oh fine," Dylan said, rolling his eyes and stretching. "Cut from the same cloth as Madog, this one. Let's go, Aerona. We need to go and have no fun at all."

"Maybe if you ask nicely you can have one of his eyes afterwards," Aerona suggested as they left, Rhydian absorbed in the paperwork. "You know, after his dispicable association with Iolo Mynwy cost you yours."

"Hey!" Dylan protested. "I've still got my eyes! They work!"

"Well, yes," Aerona giggled. "But they didn't in the temple. And since Madog's not here, I can say aloud that we both know you were in an awful lot of pain that day."

"Worth it, though," Dylan said smugly. "A Saxon thought I was a demon. That's just cool. Maybe I'll get a reputation now."

"You've already got one," Aerona said without thinking, and then cursed herself mentally as Dylan looked at her. "Sorry. I won't tell you. You must know you have one, though? I mean, you're a recognisable authority."

"It's the hair, isn't it," Dylan said morosely, and Aerona giggled again.

"I was going for the incredibly obvious collar," she said. "But I suppose there's that, too."

"I don't think I should go."

They both froze outside the door to the landing bay, Dylan's face becoming abruptly grave, his wandering eyes stilling as Adara's voice drifted out. Someone sighed.

"I need you to go," Awen said.

"You need me here."

"I need him here," Awen answered, an edge of brittle amusement lining her otherwise placid tone. Aerona peered around the doorframe.

They were alone in the landing bay, Adara leaning against her stable door with her back to Awen, her forehead propped up on one hand. Awen was standing a foot behind her, her arms wrapped loosely around her own ribs, watching Adara carefully. Her expression was almost agonised, completely at odds with the calm neutrality of her voice.

"Yeah," Adara said heavily. "So do I, for that matter. But I don't want to leave you now."

"You asked me to let you go," Awen said mildly. "Nearly begged -"

"Before you were dying," Adara snarled, slamming her hand in a fist to the top of the stable door. The change in Awen was remarkable. Her expression sharpened, focusing into predatory alertness, and both arms dropped from the self-hug into a ready position at her sides, weight shifting forwards -

- and she froze, her face painful to see as she withdrew back again.

"I'll still be here when you get back," Awen said. Her tone of voice was unnerving in constrast to her expression. "And much though I know you don't want to hear this -"

"There's nothing I can do here," Adara said harshly. "Yeah, I know. Except I'd get to see you before..."

She trailed off, and Awen closed her eyes, running her hand through her hair.

"If you bring him back it might help," she said, voice still eerily normal. "Stress relief, you know?"

Adara snorted, and rubbed her eyes.

"I know," she said wryly, turning around. Awen's face snapped abruptly to a neutral mask. "And I will. But it needs to work, Awen. We can't lose you both."

"We need him alive," Awen said, sidestepping. "But - and this is an order - if it comes to a situation in which it's either you or him, you damned well make sure it's him. Understand?"

"Leader," Adara nodded, and Awen gently reached out and took her hand. Aerona pulled back around the doorframe again, and met Dylan's eye.

"I think," Aerona said quietly, "we're going to have to jump in front of any arrows aimed at Adara."

Dylan grinned.

"Not a fair fight unless there's a challenge," he said, and sauntered into the stables, Aerona trotting after him. "Hey there, petals. Ready to ride?"

"Also, do I have to go with him?" Adara asked, mildly, taking her hand out of Awen's and opening her meraden's stable. "He's an odd, you know."

"It's Northlander eccentricity," Awen corrected, her easy smile perfect as she backed away and leaned casually against the stable opposite. "Just remember; they're people, too. Their ways may not be like ours, but such is the nature of the noble savage."

"Hey!" Dylan said sternly. "Who are you calling noble? That's partly Madog you're talking about."

"I wish you'd shut up," Madog's voice said wearily behind them, and Aerona giggled as he came in and gave Dylan a look. "I thought I'd see you off, but I rather wish I hadn't bothered now. Are you sure you don't want to keep him? You've got space."

"Of course she does," Dylan said indifferently as Awen grinned. "I'm a catch, Madog, and other people realise and appreciate it."

"Actually no," Awen told Madog, who laughed. "He'd lower the tone, I told you before. You'll have to cope."

"And there!" Dylan said, throwing an arm around Aerona's shoulders conspiratorially and pointing at Awen. "You see? You see that? I'd lower the tone! You hear the accent she's saying that in? She sounds like she's drawling."

"Apologise," Madog ordered automatically, looking at the ceiling. Awen laughed.

"Sorry, Awen."

"Hey!"

"Sorry, Adara."

"Oh, you will be," Adara told him lightly, mounting up. "We've got time."

"Although not that much," Madog said pointedly. "Put Aerona down, Dylan, and get going."

"I rather like the Casnewydd accent, actually," Aerona said as she went to lead Briallu out of her stable. "It's quirky and individual."

"It's kind of you to say so," Awen smiled. "But you're the only living person who thinks so. It's actually vile."

"It is not!" Aerona chided her, springing into the saddle. "I mean, it can sound a bit..."

"Vile."

"Salty," Aerona corrected reproachfully. "But it doesn't when you speak."

"That's because she's a bard," Adara threw across sagaciously. "They have the trick of sounding like they're singing even when they're silent. You should have heard Owain. Whinge? And then some."

"That was more because he was actually whinging and less because of accent, mind," Awen said thoughtfully. "And his voice itself, which he couldn't help as you know."

"You mustn't blame people for things they can't help," Dylan said. "My mam said. This is why I don't blame Madog for being a loser. Not blame. Not as such."

"Very magnanimous," Aerona giggled, fastening the final strap of her harness. "Okay, I'm ready."

"I was already ready."

"I'm nearly ready," Dylan sniffed. "But once I am it will be better readiness than either of yours, and so will count for more."

"Gods," Madog muttered. "Enjoy him, guys. Experience my nightmare."

"Madog Helygen!" Dylan said disapprovingly. "Consider Awen's feelings! We're about to hunt down her nightmare."

Awen laughed.

"You can definitely keep him," she told Madog. "Right. Got the maps? Route descriptions?"

"Ooh, I have!" Aerona said happily. "Um, but I can't navigate to save my life, so I'll give them to someone else. Adara?"

"Ah, responsibility, my old nemesis," Adara said, riding over and taking the papers. "We meet again."

"Anything else we need to know?" Aerona asked, looking down at Awen. "Last minute hints and tips?"

"Don't take him on by yourself," Awen said seriously as they started moving to the runway. "He's an extremely good hand-to-hand fighter, it'll take at least two of you. Possibly all three to take him alive. He's a ranger, too, so be aware of how much of a target you make. He's particularly good with a crossbow. And he's extremely cunning. Your best chance is if you can take him by surprise, be as subtle as possible."

"Lame," Dylan complained. "I hate the clever ones. It's like they think they're human."

"He's not a Saxon, Dylan," Aerona giggled.

"If all else fails," Awen said, switching her gaze to Adara, "the best tactic I can think of is to let him think I'm there. We always were good at anticipating each other's moves. If you can guess what I'd have done, you'll know what he's likely to try to counteract me."

"Good one!" Dylan said approvingly. "Alright, alive if possible, dead if not, don't go all fox-and-chicken on the Saxons, back soon. Oh, and Phoenician say: more knots, is honoured. Bye, losers."

He dropped merrily off the runway, reappearing a second later drifting upwards.

"Come on!" he called back impatiently. "Gods, how long does it take?"

"He did say his readiness was better than hours," Adara observed. "See you when I get back?"

"Definitely," Awen said, reaching out and squeezing Adara's ankle for a moment. "Go on. Bring him back."

"Leader." Adara Saluted, and followed Dylan up into the air. Aerona glanced down.

"We'll keep her safe," she said quietly. Awen looked up, something flashing in her eyes for a moment.

"Thank you," she said, the charade of normality gone for a moment; and then it was back, her expression merely serious. "Be careful. He's far more dangerous than anything any of you have ever faced."

"We will." Aerona smiled her brightest smile and Saluted. "See you both soon!"

The wind was cool on her face as she caught up to the others, soothing her tremendously. They were gliding on a thermal, waiting for her; as she reached them Dylan raised an arm and they turned, following him east. Aerona looked around. Adara was quiet, and the border was a while away...

"So!" she said brightly. "Who knows the Shop Game?"