Cymru - Chapter 45

Some days, I just can't be bothered to write chapters. This is consequently the shortest one I've written in a while.




AERONA

She woke up to supreme comfort, in a nest of feathered quilts and bathed in the sunlight pouring liberally through the window. The pain in her head had faded to the level of a bad bruise, an easily bearable ache. Aerona smiled blissfully, and rolled over -

- her nose hit Dylan's and she yelped in surprise.


"You're awake!" he said brightly. "So, hey, you know, like, relationships?"

"What?" Aerona giggled, blinking the sleep out of her eyes. "As in, do I - ? Hang on, why are you here?"

"Relationships," Dylan insisted, still nose-to-nose. "I like you. Do you want one?"

"What?" Aerona pushed herself up onto her elbows and stared at him, trying to study his expression. "Are you serious?"

"I am capable, you know," Dylan said mock-indignantly. "It does happen. Why do you think it doesn't happen? Because I can be serious, and anyway, you're Aerona. You can't judge."

"But -"

"Did Madog say I can't be serious?" Dylan persisted. "Is that why?"

"You know I wouldn't normally dream of trying to silence you," Aerona almost begged. "But please stop talking for a minute."

"Oh, fine," Dylan said grumpily, rolling onto his back and linking his fingers behind his head. "But one minute's grace is all you get, petal."

"Thank you," she said dizzily. "I - a relationship? Like, a proper one? With you?"

"Well, traditionally, that's how they work," Dylan grinned, his eyes roving the ceiling. "You can't have one by yourself, because that's narcissism. See? Greeks have words for everything. They even have a word for a kind of cake they make out of crumbs and compact and take to sea with them. They call it cake."

"I didn't think you liked me that much," Aerona said wonderingly. Dylan sat up, plucking at one set of her beads and playing with them.

"I do," he shrugged. "Do you? Because if not I'll cry on Madog and then eventually move on after much heartache and suffering, it's fine."

"That's blackmail," Aerona giggled. "No, I do. I'd love a relationship! I'll have to take the children den-building by Wrecsam more, but I think I could also work the class rotations with Geraint so I could have every other weekend free. About four or five days."

"Wins," Dylan crowed triumphantly, throwing his arms up in victory. Aerona took advantage of the position and hugged him, and he quickly swung her back down to the mattress, holding her tightly. Aerona laughed. Well, certainly this was going to be a good match; as long as you phrased it carefully Dylan played games without even realising it, and he was definitely quirky enough to find her admittedly-difficult eccentricities interesting rather than irritating.

"Oh, one thing, though," Aerona said worriedly. "You didn't decide you wanted this out of guilty trauma over my near-fatal accident, did you?"

"What? No," Dylan said disdainfully, flicking an indifferent hand. "No, I decided it when you told me you'd pulled a Saxon and I got all jealous."

"I thought you were joking then," Aerona said thoughtfully. Dylan shrugged.

"I was," he said. "Outwardly. Figured I'd talk to you about it afterwards rather than in the middle of an important mission, though."

"Oh," Aerona said. "Well, that's sensible. Hey, have you told Madog?"

"No," Dylan said, rolling his eyes. "But he'll know, because he's all… you know, a Wingleader or something. Anyway; we have a meeting."

"Do we?" Aerona asked, bewildered. "How lovely! With whom?"

"The High Council, I should think," Dylan sighed gloomily. "Or selected members, anyway. Rhydian. Gwenllian. Eifion."

His voice went flatly emotionless on 'Eifion', and Aerona hugged him as tightly as she could.

"What's it for?" she asked softly, although she could guess. Questions would be asked over Owain's escape. Especially since if Awen hadn't been quick on her feet they'd now have a dead Sovereign and three Erinnish officials to wrap up and send home with an apologetic note. Dylan gave her a wry smile.

"Owain, obviously," he confirmed. "And we have to go. Chop chop! We'll do beads later."

Ah, yes. A relationship meant one extra bead. Aerona beamed, and her smile didn't waver until they were outside Councillor Rhydian's office and Dylan's shoulders went tense in preparation. At which point she probably looked sad. Dylan knocked, and Rhydian's answering voice sounded grave.

"In," he called abruptly. Dylan pushed the door open and stepped inside ahead of her -

- but he needn't have bothered. For once Councillor Rhydian was not lurking beyond the doorframe with weaponry and a grin, instead sitting behind his desk with his chin resting on steepled fingers and looking Very Serious Indeed. Gwenllian was sitting beside him on his desk, playing with a paperweight, her black-and-red hair covering her face. Huw, the big burly Northlander Councillor with eyebrows that were nearly sentient, was leaning against the wall to one side, arms crossed over his chest; and Eifion prowled the room, apparently examining the artwork on the walls. Awen was sitting in one of three chairs in the middle, watching Eifion neutrally. As Dylan and Aerona entered she glanced at them and gave them a knowingly wry smile, which Aerona tried and failed to suppress a grin at. She managed not to giggle, though. That wouldn't have been clever.

"Sit, sit," Rhydian said, waving a hand at the chairs. They sat. "Right. First of all, well done on bringing Owain back without causing too much of a scene in Saxonia. I'm sure Leader Awen for one is extremely grateful."

"I am," Awen told them solemnly. "I'd kiss you both, with tongue and everything, but the risk of subsequent disembowellment might make the message insincere."

And there went the attempt not to giggle. Dylan Saluted Awen lazily with one finger.

"I accept in spirit," he said. "And hey, you were right, he really was a bollock."

"Glorious expression!" Gwenllian cackled. "Ooh, wait, I have to write that one down…"

"Next," Rhydian said, handing her a pen. "With regards to his escape here, we've cleared you. After Aerona had already reported on the druids and we failed to catch this Rhonwen in Trallwng that bit was hardly your fault, and then he escaped here after you'd handed over custody. Your quick thinking then saved the day. Well done."

"Thank you, Councillor," Dylan said, slightly awkwardly. Rhydian gave him a thin smile.

"You're welcome," he said. "Next: Aerona, how are you?"

"Oh, fine thanks," Aerona smiled. "It's just bruised now. The druids have all told me to just eat and sleep, and say I'll be fine by tomorrow probably. Or the day after."

"Good," Rhydian said, and threw a paperweight at her face. Aerona caught it, startled, and he nodded, apparently satisfied. "Excellent. And congratulations, by the way."

"Cheers," Dylan broke in smugly. Rhydian fixed him with another narrow smile.

"You're welcome," he repeated. "We have something of a problem though, Rider, which neither you nor Awen reported to us. Would you like to guess what?"

Awen looked up sharply, her face showing nothing but concerned confusion, and Dylan looked blank. Apparently, neither of them had a clue what he was talking about. Rhydian sighed and held out his hand to Gwenllian, who handed him a piece of paper.

"Okay," Rhydian said sourly. Aerona shifted in her chair uncomfortably. "Let's give you a clue, shall we? Two days ago, Leader, in the Goat's Horn bar on the fifth level you and Leader Madog had an interesting conversation -"

"Oh, gods damn it," Awen muttered, dropping her forehead into a palm. Rhydian's smile at her was brittle.

"Excellent," he said. "You remember. Well, for the benefit of those who weren't present, let me see, which bits did I like… oh yes. Madog: Is there some sort of extra role, very political, that some Riders have but is kept secret from the rest?"

"Oh my gods," Aerona whispered, horrified. Rhydian went on.

"Awen: If it's secret… Madog: I think you're one of them."

"Oh gods," Aerona said again. It was an inadequate thing to say to fully convey the situation, but her mind had gone numb. She couldn't think of anything else. Dylan had tensed up beside her, completely still. Rhydian looked at her, his smile fakely bright.

"Oh, it gets better," he said. "Madog: Fascinating. This is exactly how Dylan reacted. Exactly the same order: blankly dodge the question first, jokingly admit to it second, and then earnestly deny it. All that's changed is the dialogue. Awen: Wait, what? You think Dylan is doing some kind of politics that you don't know about? Madog: I almost know he is. So, Rider? When was that conversation?"

Dylan sighed, running his fingers into the crazy mass of curls that formed his hair.

"A few days ago," he said quietly. "In Casnewydd, in the Landing Tower."

"Moving on," Rhydian said, going back to the page, his voice hard. "Madog: I wanted to see your reaction. And it was identical to Dylan's. I think I'll ask Aerona next."

It was like having a bucket of ice water poured down your spine. It shouldn't have been surprising, Aerona thought, stunned. If he'd guessed Awen for gods' sakes, clearly he'd have no trouble with Aerona, but even so. It was tantamount to killing him.

"Awen: Aerona?" Rhydian continued. "I thought you said political? She's a Tutor. Madog: Who's crossed the country several times in the past few days involving herself in things that really aren't teaching children how to not eat belladonna."

"It's my fault," Dylan said wearily, rubbing his scarred eyes. "I had to involve him because he'd found out about Casnewydd delaying the border warnings from Lord Iestyn. And then we got to Tregwylan after meeting up with Awen, and he was being a loser about the whole thing because we weren't just arresting everyone like real Riders, and then I got angry and told him that real Riders do whatever is needed, and then he got all thoughtful and slept with a Phoenician."

"The last bit was irrelevant," Awen murmured. Rhydian dropped the page and folded his arms, unimpressed.

"Right," he said. "So in order to bandage your ego you all but divulged the existence of Intelligencers to your Wingleader?"

"No!" Dylan exclaimed indignantly. "In order to bandage Awen's!"

"I'd hit you if I could," Awen said evenly, eyes on the ceiling. Rhydian snorted.

"I'd hit the pair of you," he declared. "Don't give me that, Dylan. It was you reacting to criticism against you. And in doing so -"

"From his Wingleader," Aerona broke in quietly. Everyone turned to look at her, and she tried not to squeak. "With respect, Councillors; every one of you in this room was a Wingleader once. I don't think you understand the relationship between Leader and Riders. Your Wingleader's approval is everything. You can't really function that well without it. If Dylan felt that Madog disapproved of him as an Intelligencer, he couldn't have reacted any other way."

"Ooh," Gwenllian said quietly, playing with a red braid. "Right. Awen, new order; after this, you go down to Owain's cell and tell him you disapprove. Don't hang around, girl; just march in, say 'I disapprove of you' and march straight back out. We'll all watch."

"Back on topic," Rhydian began, but Huw interrupted.

"She's right," he said, his extraordinarily mobile eyebrows scurrying into a meeting over his nose as he looked at Aerona pensively. "Never thought about it before, but she's right. Mine used to live off the words 'well done'."

"Be that as it may," Eifion said nasally, speaking from behind them for the first time, and Awen flinched. "Rider Dylan's actions have led to Leader Madog learning something he never should have learned. And not through a book this time," he added, flicking a sharp glance at Awen for some reason. "Through his own ingenuity, which means every Intelligencer he encounters he identifies. This is an extremely dangerous state of affairs."

"Seems a bit strong, Eifion," Huw began, but Rhydian shook his head.

"Potentially catastrophic," he said grimly. "Think about it, Huw. Intelligencers are extensively trained to be able to hide any information they need to, keep any secret. Madog hasn't had that training. If he hears something relevant, he can't hide his reactions effectively enough. Which is bad enough in Lord Gwilym's case, but at least he only knows about Awen. And as a politician people expect him to be lying."

What? Aerona thought, astonished. No one seemed to be about to explain that one, though.

"Well, let's get the shouting out of the way," Gwenllian sighed. "Awen, Dylan, both of you talked to Madog about this, neither reported it. Why?"

"And I'm particularly looking at you," Rhydian added, leaning forward and pointing at Awen. "We already know why he didn't."

"Several reasons," Awen said steadily. "Look at the transcript. Madog was very clear about only wanting to know about the Network because he was worried about Dylan, not because he intends to find and name every Intelligencer in the country. And he agreed not to look into it anymore after I suggested that if the Union hadn't already told him, there was probably a reason."

"Did you say Lord Gwilym?" Dylan asked blankly. Aerona agreed. They were ignored.

"I'm going to put this uncharacteristic display down to your impure status, Leader," Rhydian said, steepling his fingers under his chin again. "But it wasn't your call to make. We needed to know about this. You find out something important to national security and don't tell me again and I'll let Councillor Eifion re-educate you in the finer points of pain processing techniques, understand?"

"Councillor," Awen said, entirely emotionlessly, her eyes on his desk. Rhydian regarded her for a moment before turning his attention to Dylan.

"In your case," he said harshly, "I'm accepting Rider Aerona's defence for this time of being influenced by Madog's relationship with you. But be aware. I don't care who you find out information about, Dylan, whether it's Madog, Aerona, yourself or the gods themselves; if you don't tell me next time I will help Eifion strap you to the table myself. I might even hold the branding irons. Clear?"

"As a bell," Dylan said wearily, scrubbing a hand across his face. "I'll even thump him, to show willing."

"Good," Rhydian said, sitting back. "So now the question is, what do we do with Madog?"

"As I say, Councillor," Awen said hesitantly. "His only interest is Dylan, and he was happy to drop it after I told him he should. Could you just tell him about Dylan and leave it there?"

"What's he worried about, anyway?" Dylan asked blankly. "Why does he care -?"

"You're doing an incredibly high-stress and important job that you can't talk about," Awen said, her smile odd for a moment. "Trust me, that's difficult for a Wingleader."

"We can't tell him," Eifion sniffed, walking around to the desk and standing imperiously. "His reactions are untrained, as we've already said. Even a look from him could give Dylan away. And, apparently, he's fairly sharp at identifying other Intelligencers."

"Be useful if he knew, mind," Dylan said wistfully. "Because, see, then I'm another weapon in his arsenal, to make his job easier."

"True," Gwenllian nodded sagaciously. "And I like the idea of Dylan being able to talk to him. Then we can avoid any more situations like that."

She pointed at Awen, who looked slightly abashed. Eifion shook his head.

"It's far too risky," he snapped. "Listen. He cannot be told. He's a liability - he found out in the first place and had to be told by Leader Awen that maybe talking about it in the Union might not be a good idea. The fact is, he's a danger to the Network and we can't have him knowing."

"He already knows, Eifion," Huw rumbled, his eyebrows jumping athletically. "We can't make him forget. And -"

"No, we can't," Eifion smiled nastily. "But we can make sure he never tells. He's replaceable. An execution -"

It happened, and then was over, very quickly. Fortunately, Awen was on edge enough these days to just blindly react to action, so when Dylan launched himself at Councillor Eifion she moved with him, her elbow crashing between his shoulder-blades and knocking him off-balance just enough to bring him to the floor, both of them twisting -

And then it was over, Dylan on his back with Awen crouched over him, the tip of one wristblade just pressing against his throat and her other hand in the middle of his chest. He was gripping her wrist and hip tightly, eyes locked onto hers as he fought for breath. Eifion had sprung away, everyone suddenly on their feet. No one moved.

"Councillor Rhydian?" Awen said evenly, immobile. "I'd greatly appreciate it if you could promise us right now that Madog is not going to be killed."

"He's not," Rhydian said, glaring hard enough at Eifion to melt the man's head. "I swear to you, killing him is not an option."

"You're on a bloody roll today, Eifion," Gwenllian said contemptuously. "First you manhandle an unstable killer, then you propose murdering someone's Wingleader. Do you want to find a bear and poke it in the eye? Make it an even three?"

"Dylan?" Awen asked quietly. Aerona crouched down beside them. Dylan shook his head, his fingers tightening on Awen's wrist in a grip that had to hurt.

"No," he managed, his voice shaking, and as Awen nodded Aerona understood. Right now, the only thing keeping Dylan from murdering Eifion was Awen. If she moved, he'd attack again. Distractedly, Aerona stroked his shoulder, looking up at the Councillors.

"I think maybe you should leave, Eifion," Huw said, eyeing Dylan. "We've heard your argument, you don't need to stay."

"Perhaps," Eifion said, looking down at the Riders on the floor with longing. "Very well. I shall await your verdict with baited breath, Councillors."

He left with a lingering backwards glance, the door clicking softly shut behind him. Rhydian leaned over his desk.

"Need me to say it again?" he asked Awen. "I can do it more emphatically now. We absolutely, definitely fact will not be killing Madog. Quite the opposite, actually."

"You're giving birth to him?" Dylan asked, throwing an arm over his eyes. Aerona giggled as Awen pulled slowly back, retracting the wristblade. "You can't, a lady did it ages ago."

"Good job he cleared that up for you," Gwenllian told Rhydian. "That would have been pretty embarrassing to get wrong. Up you get, children, we've provided you with seats and everything."

"Cheers," Dylan muttered to Awen as she serenely sat herself back in her chair. She smiled.

"My pleasure," she said. "Some advice from a professional psychopath, mind: get yourself purified after this. Madog will be beyond displeased if you get yourself executed."

"He'd be happy," Dylan said automatically, letting Aerona pull him up. He didn't let go of her hand as they took their seats, the tension in his fingers still palpable. "He says I'm an ingrate, which hurts my feelings."

"I can't think why," Rhydian said with pointed dryness. "Now, if the fun and games are over; with everything that's happened over the past week, I think it's time for a slight change to the system of Intelligencers anyway."

"Ooh, really?" Gwenllian said, turning to look at him. "You didn't say!"

"I'm saying now," Rhydian said, pained. "And anyway, I've been considering it carefully. I think, on reflection though, that Madog is right. And Lord Gwilym, for that matter. They need someone to talk to in their own Wings."

"It is a risk," Huw said doubtfully. "Eifion was right about that. The more people know…"

"The fewer who know, we get this," Rhydian said, pointing at Awen, who flinched. "Best Rider in the country, jumping at her own shadow. That, my friend, is a waste."

"True," Huw mused, staring at Awen. She was actively cringing now, her fingers tight on the arms of the chair. Aerona felt for her.

"Anyway," Rhydian said, leaning back in his chair. "The Wingleaders. Every Wingleader in the country will be told about the Intelligencer in their Wing and then sworn into secrecy. And a couple of weeks' training so they know how and when to use an Intelligencer."

"Sorry," Aerona broke in, leaning forwards. "Did you just say every Wing?"

"Including yours, yes," Rhydian grinned. "I'm sure Geraint will be surprised."

"Um," Aerona said, nervously. "Possibly astonished. I generally made him think I just like playing games and teaching children."

"You do," Awen murmured. "It's just that one of your games is 'spies'."

"Well, yes," Aerona giggled. "But - I think he'll be shocked."

"A lot of people will be," Rhydian said contentedly. "A few will want to punch me, I should think. Madog and Llywelyn will be the most likely pair."

"Madog will flatten you if you get too close," Dylan grinned, rubbing Aerona's palm with his thumb.

"Which is why he'll be at the other end of the room," Rhydian said brusquely. "Now; Awen. You're a problem again, you have neither a Wingleader nor a Deputy. So! Out of everyone in your Wing, who do you want knowing?"

"Ha. Caradog'd be good," Awen smiled at the ceiling. "But he can't keep a secret. Adara or Llŷr, I think."

"Excellent," Rhydian said, making a note. "We're going to have to discuss a new Deputy, too, at some point. Okay. Since we've got the Alpha Wings all here at the moment I'll arrange for a meeting tonight of those, we'll stagger the others. Right! Well, that's that done, let's see, what else, what else…"

He looked blankly at the note in front of him for a second and then snapped his fingers, sitting up.

"Oh yes," he said. "Politics. Well? Saxonia?"

"They build their towns out of wood and have no drains," Dylan sniffed. "I'd go to Erinn if I were you. It's nice this time of year, and the people aren't psychotic losers."

"It was largely as reported," Aerona giggled, leaning forward and taking over. "Breguswid was telling the truth; half of them want a revolution to overturn society, another half want a revolution just to get rid of Coenred and a tiny percentage are content with the new order. He's been having objectors killed, too. He was getting Owain to do it."

"They've got their own problems, then," Rhydian said thoughtfully. "That's good to know. Enough to just fight among themselves and leave us alone, maybe?"

"Wouldn't that be nice?" Awen sighed wistfully.

"They could," Aerona nodded. "But anyone in charge of them could easily direct them. If it's not Coenred it'll be someone else. Sorry."

"Damn," Rhydian said. "How likely are they to come our way?"

"Very," Dylan said morosely. "Their culture is very anti-us. Any leader wanting to establish themselves would have to attack us, and Coenred is already."

"Bloody Saxons," Huw muttered to himself. Rhydian smiled humourlessly.

"Agreed," he said. "Alright. Get your report written up as soon as possible, please, we need it. But, in the meantime: Leader! How capable are you of arresting Flyn without breaking his jaw?"

"If he resists arrest I make no promises," Awen said evenly. "And my definition of resisting may be liberal."

"Really?" Rhydian sighed. "We can't have you attacking him, you know. It gives a bad impression before a trial. And it has to be you, you're his Alpha Wingleader."

"Just hold your hands behind your back," Gwenllian shrugged. "Although you might kick him then. Don't kick him, girl. Just escort him to a cell."

"Yeah, you're good at that," Dylan grinned evilly for some reason. Everyone else exchanged blank looks, which Aerona felt relieved at. It was okay to be out of the loop if other people were, she felt. Then you were in your own loop.

"I can try," Awen said, biting her lip. "But I really hate him at the moment. Can you stand behind me? Then I'll only punch him if you tell me to."

"That'll have to do," Rhydian nodded, standing. "Alright. Let's go, and try not to look too ecstatic as you do it. It'll look unprofessional."

"I'll try," Awen said neutrally. As she stood her fingers brushed her wrist lightly where Dylan had gripped it, her movement already slightly hindered by some hidden injury to her ribs on the left, probably from fighting Owain. Dylan looked down guiltily, and Aerona squeezed his hand.

"It'll totally bruise," he said morosely. "I bet it goes gangrenous and she can never use that hand again."

"It will not," Aerona giggled, pulling him up. "And I'm sure Awen doesn't mind."

"I will if it falls off," Awen said, heading for the door with her hands in her pockets, apparently just how she travelled in company these days. "But otherwise, no, you're good. It livened up an otherwise dull meeting."

"Dull meeting?" Rhydian objected. "That's going on your official record, Leader. Consider yourself lucky I'm not in the mood to have you whipped. Get going; they're at lunch at the moment."

"But we're going this way," Dylan said, marching Aerona in the opposite direction as they left. "Come on, pickle! We can throw rocks at the nasty Sovereign later."

"Are we going on an adventure?" Aerona asked hopefully, skipping to keep up. "Can we pretend it's two centuries ago?"

"In the middle of the Wars?" Dylan said, throwing her a mock-disapproving look. "You want to pretend there are hundreds of people dying outside? For shame, Aerona."

"Well, arguably," Aerona grinned, "there are hundreds of people dying outside every day anyway, Dylan, if we include the whole world."

"Oh, look, you know philosophy," Dylan said, pulling her around a corner. "What do you think of red?"

"I love red," Aerona said happily. Actually, this was brilliant. Simple conversations with Dylan were games. "And yellow. What do you think of red, Dylan?"

"You're right!" Dylan said merrily. "Red's awesome, good choice! Oh, and before I forget -"

He spun around abruptly, pulled her flush against him and kissed her, right in the middle of the corridor. Aerona giggled, the sound muffled as his arm tightened against the small of her back, fingers tightening in her hair -

- and then he broke it off and pulled her on down the corridor as though nothing had happened.

"What about red, anyway?" Aerona laughed, skipping on to keep up. "Or is this a game? Are we just listing things we like?"

"Honey," Dylan said. "Feathers, you, sunsets, contentment, Saxons thinking I'm a demon, swimming, beating Madog at gwyddbwyll. Ready now?"

"For what?" Aerona asked, and then noticed the shop he'd pulled her up to. The scents of lime and smoke drifted out, accompanied by the clinking, huffing sounds that proclaimed the occupants to be glassblowers. She grinned as they entered, her eyes falling on the jars of beads lining one wall. So that was why red.

"Riders!" A skinny, middle-aged man with incredibly bony elbows set down his pipe and rose from his seat by the forge, beaming at them in welcome. Aerona instantly liked him. "Welcome to my little empire! I'm Aedd. How can I help?"

"Hello Emperor Aedd," Dylan said brightly. "This is Aerona and I'm Dylan, and we'd like some beads, please."

"Ah!" Aedd said, gesturing them over to the jars. Now that Aerona looked he also had a table with combs and wax; presumably he had a lot of Rider custom here. "Are congratulations in order?"

"Yeah," Dylan grinned smugly, throwing one arm around Aerona's shoulders. "She thinks red."

"Dylan!" Aerona giggled. "You thought red and I agreed! But yes, I still do. I like the dark red."

"I love the dark red," Dylan declared. "I'll take the dark red."

"Excellent choice!" Aedd said, pulling down the jar of burgundy glass and fishing out two beads. "They'll look good on you both. Now; do you want wires or not?"

"No, thank you," Aerona said quickly. "Not on mine. This is separate."

"I agree," Dylan said softly, looking down at her for what had to be at least two seconds and had to be some kind of record before turning back to Aedd. "No, none for me either, thanks. I like my beads neat."

"As you wish," Aedd chuckled, laying them on the table. "Well, there you are, then. Give me a shout when you're done, Riders. I'll be in the back."

"Thanks, Aedd!" Aerona waved the man into the back room, and then sat down at the table. Dylan followed suit, taking her left braid between his fingers. "What a nice man! Did you choose him specially?"

"Nah," Dylan shrugged. "He's a glassblower, he was nearby, he makes nice beads. I think he's the guy Menna went to for hers. You know bees?"

"I'm aware of the phenomenon that is the existence of bees, yes," Aerona giggled. "What about them?"

"How long does it take them to make wax?" Dylan asked, carefully working the wax in her hair loose to remove the beads. "I mean, how inconvenienced are they exactly when we take the wax, like the horrific bipedal dictators we are?"

"I've no idea," Aerona said contentedly, starting work on his. "Not long, though, I shouldn't think. I mean, they live in it. They'd have to be able to make it fairly quickly."

"How quickly do they make honey?"

"Very," Aerona smiled. The seal broke, and she very carefully slid three white beads down the dark curl of hair. "That's all they do all day."

"Ah, that's why Madog's such a loser," Dylan said sagaciously. "All he does all day is lose."

"At what?" Aerona giggled. "I mean, I think traditionally one has to be competing before one can lose."

"The glorious and multi-faceted game that is life, Aerona," Dylan said sternly. "He's been cheating for years. And still loses. You see?"

"I'm sure there are circumstances in which he wins," Aerona said, coating the braid in wax. "I mean, he's not -"

"There aren't."

"Dylan -"

"There are no such circumstances, petal."

"A comparative study?"

"Hmm." Dylan regarded her. "With whom?"

"Owain," Aerona said decisively, and Dylan burst out laughing.

"Yes," he grinned. "Alright. But only because Owain is a wank-shaft."

"That's a beautiful thing to say," Aerona giggled, threading the plain red bead onto the braid. It looked elegant, the shade standing out against the dark hair and pale skin and eyes. She replaced the white ones beneath it, and began the task of sealing them in place.

"Yes," Dylan said. "I could have been a bard, on account of my poetic soul. You know Awen?"

"I'm aware of the phenomenon that is the existence of Awen, yes," Aerona grinned. "What about her?"

"Think she'll recover?"

"I have no idea," Aerona sighed sadly, and then frowned. "Although, I would like to know what's going on with Lord Gwilym. He apparently knows something he shouldn't."

"Yes," Dylan said, his flickering eyes alight with sudden interest. "Yes, I agree. Reckon we can corner Awen and find out? She might tell us, she loves us. We found her tool of a Deputy for her."

"I think she probably would," Aerona nodded, and sat back, finished. Or as far back as she could, anyway, given that Dylan was still holding her braid. "Done! It looks good."

"So does yours," he smiled, holding the end of the braid up for her to see. Apparently, he'd finished. "It suits your skin. You know you?"

"I'm aware of the phenomenon that is the existence of me, yes," Aerona said solemnly. His grin was mercurial, lightning-quick.

"You're awesome," Dylan told her, and kissed her again, her jaw softly tickled by the new bead that marked him as hers.