Wednesday 12 May 2010

Cymru - Chapter 47

MADOG

"Oh, gods," Caeron said tonelessly, getting up abruptly and heading for the comb box as Madog sauntered into the lolfa. "You can't go like that. Your hair is now a horrendous mess. What have you been doing?"

"Resting," Madog said casually, ignoring Hannibal's snort behind him. "I was horizontal, anyway. Go where?"

"Councillor Rhydian came by," Menna said absently, shifting her feet from the chair Madog was being firmly guided into before replacing them on his lap. She seemed to be reading a book of anatomical illustrations. "You're to go to some big Wingleader meeting in fifteen minutes with Dylan."

"Although he'll meet you there," Caeron added, selecting his comb of choice and tugging gently at Madog's hair with his fingers. "With Aerona, I think. Did you know about him and her?"

"Yes," said Madog, who hadn't until a few hours ago. "Don't doubt my sterling leadership skills. Do you approve?"

"Definitely," Menna yawned. "In Casnewydd she technically saved both him and you. I'm considering her deification. And the gods only know the boy needs grounding."

"I greatly enjoy the affected disdain you all have for Dylan," Hannibal smiled, settling gracefully onto the sofa and resting his foot against Madog's. "Is this common among Riders of your calibre?"

Madog snorted.

"Riders of any calibre are disdainful of Dylan," he said wryly. "It's a natural gut reaction, like a fear of the dark and falling down instead of up."

"When you say calibre," Menna began, her eyes on the ceiling, and Hannibal laughed, his voice deep.

"Level, perhaps," he grinned, teeth flashing white. "My apologies. Far be it from me to ascribe prowess to an Alpha Wing."

"I should think not," Madog said sternly. "This one contains Dylan. Anyway: what's this meeting for? Why am I going?"

"He didn't say," Menna said, stretching. "Only that it was some meeting of Alpha Wingleaders, but Dylan needed to go too. Oh, and we're to tell you: you owe Awen for your Deputy. Didn't say what he meant."

"I owe Awen for Dylan?" Madog said blankly. "That's seems unfair. It's hardly her fault."

"Is this as fun for you without him present?" Hannibal asked, amused, and Madog sighed.

"No," he said. "But I'm going to remember these insults and work them into conversation with him later. Are you done, Caeron?"

"Of course not," Caeron said, his eye-roll audible from the back of Madog's head. "Your resting was exuberant, Leader. This will take a few minutes. Fewer if Menna would bother to help."

"It's like he doesn't know how to just ask," Menna said conversationally, throwing the book to the sofa cushions beside her and rolling neatly to her feet. "He has to get snippy, you see that? What would you like me to do, Caeron?"

"Check his face, sort that out," Caeron said. "I'm entirely occupied back here."

"It's like he can't ever do a job without exaggerating, either," Menna said, putting her own face five inches from Madog's and examining him. "Because, you know, neither your face nor your hair look that bad to me."

"A meeting of Alpha Wingleaders," Caeron intoned. "He must look perfect. And apparently I need to be harsh for that."

"Oh, you're right," Menna said, slightly sarcastic. She slipped a pair of scissors out of the box, fitting them to her fingers like an expert. "Well, in that case: Leader, the thing on your chin is supposed to resemble a goatee, not a goat. Present it for pruning. This will take at least an hour, so we'd better get started."

"I hate you, Menna," Caeron told her as Madog laughed. "More than you can know. Anyway; I'm braiding this back. We have about thirteen minutes, but it'll take a few for you to walk there, so let's say ten."

"I frequently wonder why you aren't in charge, Caeron," Madog said. "Almost as frequently as I thank the gods that you aren't in charge. Where's everyone else?"

"They went for a picnic somewhere," Menna said, the slim blades of the scissors weaving neatly back and forth along his jaw. Madog didn't so much as blink. "One of the courtyards. And I think Emyr asked the Casnewydd Wing, since we've all been getting along so well."

"He should invite them to a sleepover," Madog said sardonically. "Then Caeron could do everyone's hair. Tell me, how much of his motivation was to see Llio again?"

"He didn't mention her," Menna said. "All of it, I should think."

"I like the girl with the bird," Caeron said. "Although she's scary."

"Beheads people with cheesewire," Madog grinned. "Astonishing. Are we done yet? This is boring."

"My friend," Hannibal said slyly. "Have we not yet conquered that impatient streak of yours?"

"You'll notice I'm free to kick you now," Madog told him firmly as Menna chuckled. "Quiet. I already command no respect at all amongst this Wing, you don't need to add to it."

Someone knocked at the door and Madog pointed to it.

"Watch this, now," he said. "Menna, go and answer that."

She didn't even bother to speak. She just ignored him, serenely navigating his top lip. Hannibal laughed, and stood.

"I see your point," he said. "Never fear! I shall answer it for you, my friend. Perhaps my activity shall in some way shame them into greater obedience. One never knows."

"That's a pleasing fantasy," Madog declared darkly as Hannibal moved over to the door. "Seriously. Both of you are a disgrace. You've let me down, you've let the Wing down, but most of all, you've let yourselves down."

"Oh, Leader," Menna said, shaking her head. "That one never worked. There. Your beard is trimmed. It seems my previous estimate of an hour was wildly incorrect. I cannot think why."

"It seemed so accurate," Madog agreed, and grinned at Caeron's huff. "Is my hair done yet?"

"No," Caeron said as Menna went to join him. "But we still have time, it's fine. You'll thank me once you're in there, you know."

"My friend!" Hannibal said merrily from the doorway. "It is a pleasure to see you once more! I shall refrain from bowing. It did not go down well last time."

"How culturally sensitive of you," Awen grinned, bowing to him regardless. "I heard your Audience went well? Congratulations."

"You did?" Hannibal sounded pleasantly surprised as she slipped inside and closed the door. "We have not yet heard any indications."

"Then it must be entirely guesswork on my part, I'm sure," Awen said, giving him a sly smile. Hannibal looked like he'd never wanted to bend at the waist more. "Oh, well. Hi guys, how's life?"

"Well, it was great," Menna said. "But now Caeron's seen what you look like he's going to nag me like a slave driver for the next ten minutes."

"Eight," Caeron snapped. "Move!"

"You look chirpy," Madog said drily as Awen dropped into the sofa Menna had occupied earlier. "Almost as chirpy as a woman who got to beat her traitorous ex-Deputy to within an inch of his life a few hours ago."

"You know, it's funny you should mention that," Awen smiled languidly. "Although it's now a bit uncertain as to whether or not he'll actually wake up again. He'd already had druidic attention on his brain last night, it seems."

"True or false," Madog offered. "Owain's unconscious state has made no difference to his brain power."

"Oh, false," Awen said earnestly. "He's silent now. It's a blessed relief. Thank you, by the way."

"You're welcome," Madog snorted. "You did me a favour, actually; Dylan gets bored in peacetime. You gave him a chance to run around. And find a girlfriend."

"Who nearly died," Awen said morosely, pinching the bridge of her nose. "That's so embarrassing. Next time I'm just going myself."

"Terrible idea," Madog grinned. "They have songs about you, Dylan tells me. They know who you are."

"Your fame does precede you, my friend," Hannibal said casually. "Everyone has heard of you. Both of you, and Leader Llywelyn, of course; but yourself especially. It is astonishing to many cultures to hear of a woman in battle. Even more so one who commands, and who is still alive after several years."

"I hope they've also heard of my sparkling charm and excellent gardening skills," Awen said with considerable elan given the circumstances. Madog laughed.

"And your staggering linguistic repertoire," he said. "But I'm going to save you. Or possibly not. I demand to know every detail about you and Lord Gwilym. Begin."

"Argh." Awen rubbed her hands through her hair. "It's a long story. And basically revolves around his corrosive effect on my willpower whenever I get within a foot of him."

"He can touch you," Madog grinned. "I saw. And he actually had you in his arms in front of the High Council earlier. How is that possible?"

"We're Union sanctioned," Awen said, astonishingly. "Yeah, I don't know, either. I think maybe he promised Rhydian Aberystwyth's unconditional support for the rest of his life or something, I have no idea."

"Are you together now?" Menna asked, her voice bright with interest. "You and a Sovereign?"

"In spite of my perfectly reasonable objections," Awen said sourly, "yes, it seems so."

"That is a scandal unparallelled by anything I've ever heard," Madog declared. "Well done. Have you slept with him yet?"

"No," Awen said firmly. "And nor shall I, until I'm certain I'm not likely to instantly behead him or something. I'm not taking that risk."

Well, that was understandable, but Madog was certain there was no risk. She jumped with everyone else; she froze with Lord Gwilym. Maybe she had another reason.

"Might I ask?" Hannibal's deep voice broke in gently. "Why did you object to this union?"

"Oh, where to start?" Awen sighed. "He's now told me twice that he loves me. I can never say that back. I can never use his name without putting a title in front of it. I can't give him children, which as a Sovereign he will need. I can't even live in the same place as him. I'd be a constant danger to him in close quarters anyway. I'm an emotional retard. And it will, therefore, be an entire relationship built on him trying to prop me up and me never learning to stand up myself. I don't think he realises yet how hard that's going to get."

"Perhaps he does, and considers you to be worth the effort," Hannibal suggested carefully. "My friend, all relationships involve supporting one's partner when they cannot support themselves. Sometimes this is a strain, yes. But this works both ways. You would support him when he could not, yes?"

"Yes," Awen said, "but -"

"If he loves you, my friend," Hannibal said gently, "then he will not feel that strain. And it seems he does."

"He thinks he does," Awen said darkly. "I've known him for a week. That's not love, that's an infatuation born of sexual attraction."

"He's a very good judge of character, though," Madog mused, ignoring her pointed look. "He seems to know you inside out."

"Love begins somewhere, my friend," Hannibal smiled. "And if nothing else you have a strong basis for it. Time will tell, in any case."

"I don't have time," Awen muttered, and twitched as Hannibal sat up and leaned forward.

"Ah!" he said. "Is this why you agreed to this relationship? You know you will soon be gone?"

There was a pause, Awen watching Hannibal.

"I don't think so," she said after a moment. "I was going to say no. I was saying no, actually. But I find it hard to keep it up when I'm actually with him."

"So would I," Madog said. "Pretty lad."

"You're a public menace, Leader," Caeron said emotionlessly. "Hold that, Menna."

"He makes you happy?" Hannibal smiled softly. "He makes you feel better?"

"Stop it," Awen said evenly. "I don't love him, either. It's been a week."

"We call this denial," Madog grinned. "And anyway, it's too late. He's already tricked you into a relationship using the deplorably underhand tactic of asking you while you're both in love with each other, so it'll only get better. And I bet you a pint he gets you purified."

"No," Awen said archly. "Because if I won it would be irrelevant, I couldn't drink it. Let's talk about something else."

"Fine," Madog said, rolling his eyes. "We're going to a meeting - oh. Apparently you're to blame for Dylan?"

"He's older than me, I can't be," Awen said, apparently automatically, and then blinked. "Sorry, what?"

"Councillor Rhydian came by to tell us about the meeting," Menna said behind Madog. "He told us to tell Madog that he owes you for Dylan, or something."

"Ah." Awen rubbed one eye with the heel of her hand. "That. I can't tell you why for reasons of national security, but he tried to attack Councillor Eifion earlier."

The sudden burst of fear gripped his heart like a fist, his limbs going cold and his mouth going dry. Madog sat bolt upright in the chair, pulling clean away from Menna and Caeron, neither of whom spoke or tried to stop him. He stared at Awen, mind blank. Tell me you're lying, he thought in horror.

"What happened?" his training asked calmly. Awen's smile was wry.

"Nothing," she said. "Which is why you owe me. Quick on his feet, isn't he? And my wrist will be feeling it for a while."

Nothing. Nothing happened. It was alright. And Councillor Rhydian had said - he'd implied that everything was fine, so…

"Thank you," Menna breathed. Awen shook her head.

"You're welcome," she said. "I did the same thing today. I suspect the next person to threaten Councillor Eifion's well-being will be skinned, though, so just make sure it's none of you."

"What a fearsome-sounding man," Hannibal murmured, blissfully unaware of the gravity of the situation. Madog exchanged a glance with Awen.

"I do believe you'd genuinely hate him," he said. "Since you have this odd aversion to Riders feeling pain."

"Do you?" Awen asked him, surprised. "You're weird, Hannibal."

"That's what I tell him," Madog said absently. Adrenaline was still hammering at his heart, slowly wearing off. "Is Dylan okay, then?"

"Fine." Awen grinned. "He's with Aerona. How are we for time?"

"We have three minutes," Caeron said, pulling Madog back into the chair properly by his shoulder and resuming work on his hair. "But we're nearly done. Make-up, Menna."

"Do yours fuss this much?" Madog asked Awen, aggrieved. "It's like I'm not allowed to leave anymore without looking like I've been attacked by a horde of barbers."

"Mine haven't stopped since Owain," Awen said gloomily. "It's a devil on my schedule, I'll tell you that. Llio and Adara have started setting aside times in the day when they can get Gwilym there to keep me still."

"Speaking of which," Menna said, appearing in front of him with a jar of foundation. "Keep still, Leader. I have no desire to make you look like a clown. It would only be funny until Caeron disembowelled me."

"Which I certainly would," Caeron said. The release of pressure on Madog's scalp suggested his hair was done, a hypothesis that became a theory moments later when Caeron appeared to the side of him with a cloth and started to very carefully polish his beads. "Under his eyes."

"Yes, Caeron, I'm completely stupid," Menna said, rolling her eyes. "Thank gods you're here to explain this to me."

Her thumb brushed gently beneath his eyes as Caeron snorted.

"I'm missing a picnic for this, you know," he grumbled.

"You can catch up in two minutes," Madog told him. "And then if you're feeling brave you can ask Adara out."

"No one's that brave," Awen grinned. "Even I've never been that brave. And she's coming to the meeting, anyway."

"Is she your new Deputy now?" Madog asked as Menna's fingers swept across his cheeks. Awen shrugged.

"No idea," she said. "I keep offering it to people, but no one wants the job. I suspect I'm not selling it well enough. It's probably my track record with them, everyone's scared I'll break their face."

"Done," Caeron announced, seizing a second pot of foundation. "Move over, I'll do this side."

"I can see that you need better marketing for the job, certainly," Hannibal grinned. "Have you tried promising not to inflict bodily harm on suitable candidates?"

"No," Awen said. "The reason being, I can't make that promise. It's alright; I'll just wait until I'm fed up of them all turning me down and then order someone to do it. That's the great beauty of the chain of command."

"It is a miniturised dictatorship," Hannibal nodded. "I can see its benefits, certainly."

"Alright," Menna said, putting the lid back on the pot and surveying Madog critically. "I'd say you're done. Caeron probably doesn't."

"No, that's fine," Caeron said, moving back. "You have six minutes to get there. Go."

"Goodness, he's efficient," Awen remarked, rising to her feet. Opposite her Hannibal mirrored the movement. "Adara would like you, actually."

"I'll see you later?" Madog asked Hannibal. "Unless you want to introduce your ropes to someone else, in which case I recommend the training courtyards on the tenth level."

"I will see you later, my friend," Hannibal said. "Go to your meeting! You will be late."

"I really don't understand that man," Madog said as they left the room. A careful press of his fingers revealed that Caeron had woven his hair back into a braided knot that ran down the back of his head, surprisingly elaborate given that he'd done it in eight minutes. Awen laughed.

"He likes you!" she said, amused. "Rider fetish, remember? We are eternally fascinating to such people. And you're an Alpha Wingleader, you're a good vintage."

"But you'd have thought he'd have moved on by now," Madog said pensively. "I mean, this is the Union. The Union. A man with a Rider fetish."

"Alpha Wingleader," Awen shrugged. "And you have a rugged charm, you know."

"Don't tell him that!" Dylan's voice chirped, preceding the man himself around the corner. "Then his ego will grow and he'll think he's all big and clever and he's not. Look! It's Aerona!"

It was indeed. Dylan seemed to have been towing her down the corridor by one wrist, and now he held it up, as though presenting a treasured possession for inspection. Aerona giggled. Madog found himself checking Dylan over for injuries instead. Attacking Eifion? And not getting dissected? It was too good to be true, and yet he seemed fine; he was uninjured, anyway, the only change being the red bead on his left braid. Which was weird. Madog wasn't used to Dylan actually committing to people. He was far too private.

"Put her down, Dylan," he said out loud wearily. "You'll wear her out. Sorry, Aerona. I feel it's my duty to inform you that you've made a terrible choice in partner."

"He plays games!" Aerona said brightly. "He doesn't even realise it! Which for me is largely perfect."

"Ha!" Dylan crowed. "In your face! I'm perfect, Madog! Hello Awen. Does your hand still work?"

"I tested it out extensively on a harp," Awen nodded. "It's fine, thanks for asking."

"And just what did you do that makes you ask that?" Madog said plaintively. "I swear, I let you out of my sight for three minutes and you're crippling people."

"Why assume it was me?" Dylan said, tucking a few loose strands of Madog's hair back behind his ear and studying him for a second before ambling away towards the meeting room. "That hurts, dude. Maybe it wasn't me. Have you considered that? Maybe it was Aerona and I stopped her."

"Hey!" Aerona giggled.

"Mostly because you're a reprobate," Madog told the back of his head, and turned to Awen. "What did he do to you?"

"Remember I told you my wrist would be feeling it for a while?" Awen smiled. "Now Dylan is convinced my hand will become gangrenous and take leave of my body."

Madog sighed. It was no good. This Councillor Eifion thing was creeping him out.

"Can you really not tell me why he did it?" he asked. "With Eifion?"

"Actually, I couldn't tell the others," Awen said quietly, her eyes going hard. "You won't like it."

"Really?" Madog watched Dylan and Aerona as they pulled ahead, marching on to the meeting room's double doors at the end of the corridor. "Why not?"

"He was protecting you," Awen said softly, the words upending a bucket of ice over Madog's stomach. "Do you remember the conversation we had in the bar, first night here? You had a theory."

Madog stopped dead, staring at her. Awen turned to face him, her expression serious but sympathetic.

"You're about to get full details," she said neutrally. "That's what this meeting is about. It's being called because of you, and that conversation."

"You said I wasn't supposed to know," Madog said hollowly. "That there was a reason I didn't."

"Yes," Awen said, her eyes darkening slightly again. "Well, Eifion was displeased, anyway. You know what he's like."

"I know," Madog said numbly.

"It's not going to happen," Awen said carefully, watching him. "But his suggestion for dealing with you knowing was to execute you. He said this in front of Dylan."

"Dylan," Madog said, breathing out through his nose. "I might actually throttle him."

Awen smiled empathetically and looked away.

"So would I," she said, her fingers lightly touching his forearm in shared understanding, and Madog wondered if her Wing had standing orders to never come between her and Eifion too. "Come on, though. You instigated this meeting. Now you have to sit through it."

"How angry am I likely to be at this?" Madog asked as he followed her to the door. "I mean, am I going to need to chain myself to the chair, or will I just be resignedly testy?"

"Well, you've basically come to terms with the concept," Awen shrugged, pushing the door open. "I can't imagine the details will be that incendiary by contrast."

She looked over at one of the windows inside, seeing Adara and Llŷr sitting on the wide ledge, and sighed.

"Mine, on the other hand," she muttered, "may not forgive me. See you later."

Gods. Alpha Wingleader and… whatever else she was. He hated that he'd been right about her, however much it explained. It was just cruel. Madog turned, and saw Dylan.

Aerona's Wingleader had arrived, it seemed. Either that or she was being rather blatantly stolen away from Dylan right in front of him, and he was taking it freakishly calmly. The new arrival was a tall, broad-shouldered man whose build reminded Madog much of a bear, but his grin was charmingly genuine. He'd scooped Aerona up into a hug that left him standing up straight and her feet hanging contentedly about a foot off the ground while he talked to a happily grinning Dylan. Madog smiled, and wandered over.

"…just find it incredible!" the man was saying. "Aerona, in Saxonia! That's mental!"

"Couldn't have done it without her," Dylan said indifferently. "She made a Saxon tell her all his secrets, too. Oh, Madog, this is Geraint. Geraint this is Madog, he's a loser. I mean Leader."

"Yes, I'm responsible for this degenerate mass of hair," Madog said, Saluting. "Can I advise you to impel her to choose someone else? I can't stress strongly enough what an appalling catch he is."

"Ha!" Geraint Saluted easily back, proving once and for all that Aerona weighed about the same amount as a pixie, since he didn't put her down. "I would, but so's she. After two weeks of being asked to play tag he'll either run away or glass her."

"Hey!" Aerona squeaked indignantly. "I rarely play tag!"

"She doesn't!" Dylan agreed, lifting Aerona out of Geraint's arms and into his own. "And she's an excellent catch! Come on, Aerona. We know when we aren't wanted."

"Underlings, eh?" Madog said, shaking his head. Geraint nodded.

"Gang up, don't they?" he agreed. "Nah, he seems alright. It was him who sent me the letter about her, so it's a good first impression anyway. I don't want to spit in his face, like, in any case."

"You're one of three people," Madog told him, but the rest of the sentence was over-ridden by Councillors Rhydian and Gwenllian striding into the room and up to the chairs and table on the dais at the end. Everyone ambled vaguely into seats. As Madog dropped into a chair by Dylan he glanced across, and noted that Awen had carefully ensconsed herself in one of the deep windowsills to avoid touching anyone accidentally. She'd also pulled her knees up to her chest and had her arms around them, chin resting on them morosely while Adara and Llŷr watched Rhydian obliviously. Madog went to follow their gaze, but was stopped by Dylan's hand on his arm, his gaze unusually focused.

"Um," Dylan said. "Don't be too angry?"

Madog regarded him for a second, and then dropped a hand onto his shoulder, turning back to the dais.

"It won't be with you," he said neutrally. "I think that's the best I can offer, though."

"Madog," Dylan started, but was cut off as Rhydian began to speak.

"Right," he said, his voice silencing any lingering conversations. "Hello, thanks for coming, etc."

"I love it when you say that like they had a choice," Gwenllian said contentedly. Rhydian smacked her shoulder without looking and carried on.

"The reason you're all here," Rhydian said seriously, "is because you're all about to be briefed on the single most top-secret aspect of the Union's work. You are not permitted to talk about this with anyone else at all. Wingleaders, look at the one person you have here from your own Wing."

"Except you, bach," Gwenllian said, pointing at Awen. "In your case, you two look at her."

There was a brief pause as everyone noted their Riders. Aerona shifted awkwardly, giving Geraint a slightly strained smile. Dylan looked at the floor silently, his eyes for once immobile.

"You will never discuss what you are about to hear unless given permission to do so by the person you are currently looking at," Rhydian continued, his voice hard. No one spoke, because of Training, but Madog could feel the wave of confused astonishment. Dylan took Aerona's hand and held it tightly. "If you do, it will be considered a violation of your Oaths. That's how serious this is."

"We wouldn't be telling you all," Gwenllian said casually. "But Madog's a tit and worked it out."

"Gwen," Rhydian said, pained, and turned back to the silent assemblage. "Right. It's called the Intelligencer Network. You all have specialisms, different roles, you all know how that works. But there's an extra one that one Rider in every Wing in the country has; we call them Intelligencers. Their job is to keep an eye on all of the covert, back-room deals going on in the City-state, on every level of society, and then report it all back to us so we know what's going on in the country at any given time. As the clever of you will have gathered, the magic member of your Wing with this job is sitting next to you."

The silent astonishment was so tangible it was taking up breathing space. Half the room was staring open-mouthed at the other half, who were generally slumped into miserably awkward positions that suggested their dearest wish was currently to be able to sink through floors. Madog put his hand back on Dylan's shoulder wordlessly, watching the Councillors.

"Now," Rhydian went on. "The reason for the secrecy is because if no one knows Riders do this, if everyone thinks we're entirely above board, they're far more lax about hiding the evidence of their plots and schemes. Your Intelligencer has been trained since they were about eleven or twelve to hide their motives and keep their activities secret. You, on the other hand, have not. You're all going to have four weeks of training here to learn how to not arouse suspicion - and, of course, how best to use your Intelligencer."

The silence filled the room, then finally gained sentience and left.

"Eleven or twelve?" Llywelyn asked from behind Madog, his voice dangerous. "You made one of my Riders keep a secret from me this important for thirty years?"

The expressions of half the room agreed. The other half winced.

"Well, the point of secrecy," Rhydian began, but someone cut him off. To Madog's astonishment, it was Madog.

"And what about them, Councillor?" he asked quietly, fingers tightening on Dylan's shoulder. "Keeping any sort of secret from someone you love would be hard enough. You've asked them to keep something astonishingly important about both themselves and their lives from everyone they love since they were children. What's the strain of that like?"

"High," Rhydian nodded, his voice professionally shorn of emotion. "Which is why -"

"And it's not just everyone he loves," Madog said tightly. The anger was suddenly welling up inside him, gripping his throat, clenching his fists. "We aren't just family. We fight together. Almost every day recently, facing Saxons together, trusting each other, and you made him lie to us?"

"Leader -"

"Did you bother to give him anyone he could tell?" Madog snarled. He was on his feet, only his hand on Dylan's shoulder anchoring him, holding him back. "Did you give him any outlet to relieve that pressure? Did you deign to give him even the small comfort of telling a random from the Union about how hard it was from time to time?"

"Madog," Dylan started. "It's not -"

"Shut up," Madog said levelly, watching Rhydian, and Dylan obeyed the order. "Well, Councillor?"

"No," Rhydian said carefully. "Not anymore. They get it when they start, though."

"You think you outgrow psychological support?" Llywelyn snapped, rising to his feet as well, hands balled into fists beside him. "There's a reason we don't stop needing purification, Councillor!"

"No," Rhydian said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "How can I put this? The importance of secrecy means that Intelligencers could, until now, only talk to each other. And there's only one in each Wing, so -"

"There's a hierarchy?" Madog almost shouted, horrified. "You're telling me they talk to whoever ranks above them? Dylan is not only trying to perform the role of Deputy Alpha Wingleader on the frontlines, he's also doing some additional incredibly important top secret work alone while listening to the problems of everyone below him?"

"Oh my gods," Llywelyn muttered.

"Until now," Rhydian pointed out with spiteful calm. "And it's not quite as damaging as you're making it sound -"

"That," Madog snarled, finally letting go of Dylan and taking a step forward, "is because I haven't mentioned Awen yet!"

Rhydian sighed and looked down at the table as finally the horrified muttering broke out across the room. That, Madog reflected, was something an Alpha Wingleader could really relate to. The idea of doing their job and this one on top of it was genuinely repellent to them. Awen glanced at him wearily from the window, looking over an incensed Adara's shoulder.

"Madog," she began; but he wasn't in the mood to hear any sort of reason, it seemed.

"You know you were betrayed twice?" he told her flatly. "Once by Owain and once by them." He gestured at the Councillors, who simply watched him, gravely. "You've been giving yourself on at least two fronts for a long, long time. You had no chance of seeing Owain. And they never bothered to help you see him. How old did you say he was, Aerona? When he went up that mountain?"

"Fifteen," Aerona said nervously. Madog nodded.

"Fifteen," he said bitterly. "While you were already being trained to hide yourself. Of course he learned to hide himself. So why the hell weren't you watching him, Councillors?"

"Very good question, actually," Gwenllian mused. "That was in the Archives and everything, wasn't it? Why didn't we notice that?"

"Oh, because Madog's right," Rhydian said. "We left it all up to Awen because it was a terrible system. But."

He stood up, putting his authority back on like a cloak, and waved his hand at them all. Madog sat back down automatically.

"But," Rhydian repeated. "This is why we're changing it. As Wingleaders you need to monitor your Riders' mental wellbeing anyway, so we're adding this as something you need to help them with. And, as I say, they form an extra weapon in your arsenal. You will be trained in how to effectively deploy the skills they possess, although since you've all been doing so for years without realising it anyway, that won't take long."

"That's true," Madog muttered, grinning. "I think you've been deploying me for years."

"You made it easy," Dylan shot back. "Who's the ingrate now, hmm?"

"Subsequent system changes," Rhydian carried on, examining a piece of paper in front of him, "will include having two Intelligencers per Wing rather than one, neither of whom will be the Wingleader if at all possible. And we're going to have additional liaison officers in each City to co-ordinate all of the Intelligencers in each state and to help monitor them. They'll probably be Low Councillors who were Intelligencers themselves, since their presense can be easily explained."

"Ooh, that's a good one!" Gwenllian said. "Did you just think of that one?"

"No," Rhydian said, pained. "This is all planned, Gwen, stop interrupting. We'll look unprofessional. Let's see, what else? Oh - don't be surprised to learn that your Intelligencer has a few extra skills they've never told you about. They can probably speak more languages than you, for example. And they can pick locks."

"You can pick locks?" Madog asked with mock-horror. "We'll never be safe again."

"Oh, Madog," Dylan said, sitting back. The quiet banter had helped him relax, although he was still clearly unhappy. "I'm not the sex pest. The only reason you've never been sectioned is because you're only a threat to half the world."

"I object to your prejudiced statements," Madog said drily.

"Of course you do, you're gay."

"Well, yes."

"We're going to look into training Intelligencer-only Wings," Rhydian continued. "Who will be used on foreign soil. And, since it's come up - Leader Awen. We're offering you an official apology on the subject of Owain, because Madog was right. That's on us, not you."

Awen stared at him, momentarily taken aback.

"Thank you, Councillor," she said, glancing at Adara, who grinned back. "There's no need."

"Of course there is, girl," Gwenllian snorted. "It's messed your head up, look."

"Anyway," Rhydian said. "That covers the general briefing, your Intelligencer can explain details to you and my door is otherwise open if you want to shout at me some more. Although if you could refrain from trying to cause me actual bodily harm I'd greatly appreciate it."

"So," Madog said, leaning back in his chair as Rhydian and Gwenllian left, the conversations starting all around them. "Eleven or twelve? Know which you were?"

"I'm sorry I lied," Dylan said edgily, leaning his elbows onto his knees. "When you asked. We were told they would have to eliminate anyone who ever found out, although now they aren't, so maybe they lied, but I didn't want -"

"Dylan," Madog sighed. "It's fine. Listen to me. I'm not angry with you, okay? And I don't blame you. You had to do it, and you've done it well. It's been years."

"But you can't trust me now?" Dylan's eyes met Madog's for a moment before sweeping on, flickering over the dais and its furniture. "Because, you know, you're right. I'm not entirely the person you thought I was, and we don't have a job that really supports that. That's an ugly table."

"Of course I trust you," Madog said bluntly. "I don't agree. You're exactly the person I thought you were, but now with more evidence to prove it. If anything I have an even higher opinion of you now, but I don't intend to tell you that because out loud I hate you."

Dylan snorted.

"So's your face," he said indifferently, and glanced sideways. "Seriously though. You're just okay with this?"

"No," Madog said, rolling his eyes. "I'm okay with you, you complete retard. I am pissed off beyond words with the situation, because even aside from how horrendously you've been treated, if I'd known all these years you could have done a better job."

"I will never say this again," Dylan said sternly. "And if you ever mention it again I will deny it happened. But you're awesome, Madog."

"I know," Madog grinned smugly. "Same deal: so are you."

"Well obviously," Dylan said, his tone that of an irritating child explaining something to a stupid person. "I'm excellent. Are you hungry?"

"Yes," Madog mused. "But now we've kissed and made up I'm going to see how Awen is doing first."

"I'm going to see how Aerona is doing," Dylan declared. He turned in his chair. "Hello Aerona. How are you doing?"

"Fine," Aerona said happily as Madog stood. She was sitting on Geraint's lap, wrapped in his arms. "He was shocked! I thought he would be. He thinks I play tag a lot."

"It's mental!" Geraint marvelled. "How do you fit that in around teaching, anyway?"

Madog moved past them and walked on to the window.

"But seriously!" Adara was saying frustratedly. "Why haven't you melted? It's lunacy!"

"You grow up with something, you get used to it," Awen shrugged, a small smile playing around her lips. "I don't know. I cope. Mostly."

"Until now," Llŷr said sadly. "This is what Gwenllian meant, isn't it? It's messed up your head. You've had too much responsibility, so you think you're to blame for everything."

"Not entirely," Awen sighed, and saw Madog. "Hey. How's Dylan?"

"Fine," Madog smiled, stretching. "I think it might take me a few more goes before he properly accepts that I'm not angry with him, though. Have yours forgiven you?"

"There was nothing to forgive, because we aren't psychotic crazies," Adara told him, her gaze nonetheless pointed at Awen. "I mean, we always knew she did extra stuff because of being a Wingleader, so from our perspective we're just finding out what."

"I always assumed you talked about it with Owain, though," Llŷr said. "It's quite upsetting to know you were alone all that time."

"Good gods," Adara said suddenly, and burst out laughing. "No wonder Dylan laughed at him! Owain! He said you were all unsubtle and incapable of acting covertly!"

Which was suddenly hilarious, and all four of them promptly dissolved, happily enough including Awen. They laughed so hard, in fact, that three seconds later Dylan was poking Madog in the ribs plaintively, unspeaking but waiting to be filled in. Madog giggled, and fought himself under control, wiping tears away.

"Owain," he managed, and was off again, apparently taking Adara with him. Dylan blinked at him and turned to Awen.

"You apparently already know," she chuckled. "Owain thinks I'd be a terrible spy."

"Ha! Yes!" Dylan grinned. "Guy's a massive tool. I know this story, I'm going again."

He wandered away, and Madog fought himself back into some semblance of solemnity.

"Sorry," he said, sobering. "For once, Dylan's right. Owain is a massive tool. Are you okay?"

"Fine," Awen giggled. "It's fine. I beat him hollow today. I'm good."

"After the apology, though?" Madog asked gently. "You're not now spiralling into a deeper pit of grief and self-hatred or anything?"

"No," Awen smiled, looking out of the window. She was silent for a moment, thinking. "No," she repeated, sounding faintly surprised. "I'm not, actually. I think… I think I'm coming to terms with not noticing Owain's mental breakdown, I don't know."

She twirled a bead between her fingers, eyes on the mountains below.

"What he did is another matter," she said uncertainly. "I'm not sure where I stand on that still. But him actually turning to the dark side…"

"Wow," Madog murmured quietly, impressed. "Lord Gwilym, eh? He's done you a world of good."

"Hasn't he?" Llŷr sighed, wistfully. "Shame he's not a Rider, he's brilliant. I'd want him as a replacement, I think."

"Only because he said you were his favourite, you saddo," Adara sniffed. "And having now encountered his crazy relatives, I understand why he'd think it."

"You're just jealous because you glared and it scared him and now he hasn't chosen you," Llŷr told her. Adara glared.

"Am not!" she said. "And anyway, I'm preferable to you in the minds of all non-weirdos. Madog, do you prefer me or Llŷr?"

"Oh, gods, look at that," Madog said. "I'm leaving. See you later, Awen."

"You have no solidarity," she called after him as he left, and Madog laughed. Everything felt like it was looking up, he thought. He knew about Dylan properly now, Awen actually seemed to be improving against all odds, and Hannibal seemed to be good for one more encounter at least.

So something bad was definitely going to happen tomorrow to ruin it all. That was a shame. Especially as Flyn's trial was tomorrow.

3 comments:

Blossom said...

Ha ha! Madog absolutely voiced my thoughts at the end of that chapter!!

Loved it. It had all my favourite things in it. Lots of love, and compassion, and emotional intensity. An d bromance, of course. I think that's why I am so fond of Madog. His relationship with Dylan is one of my favourite forms of love.

Glad we've met Geraint now, too! Love how physical and affectionate they are! I love the idea that they're all a bit Aerona-like as a wing.

Madog's intensity was awesome - love him.

Hannibal's dialogue might want looking at a bit. It's good, but occasionally it slips and he sounds a bit too much like the others.

One particular line really made me laugh. Can't remember what it was though. Sorry. :-)

Also, really like the relationship between Gwen and Rhydion. It's just perfect and so much fun. Big fan of them.

Quoth the Raven said...

My problem: how do I end this chapter?
Answer: make Madog state the themes.

Excellent, job done...

Yeah, I finished this one and read it back and was like, hmm, no plot all emotions. Blossom will like it, anyway. Glad you did.

Hmm. I shall keep an eye on Hannibal. Bloody Phoenicians.

Steffan said...

Really good chapter in terms of the characters and the writing ...

... but there's no conflict! All of these points should be made, but it's difficult not to agree with Rhydian that the system's being changed anyway, so why bother? They should have to fight for this new system. Maybe in the redraft, Eifion wields more influence? So Madog's to be put to death to preserve the Intelligencers' secret, so the characters have to convince him that a new system is better.

Madog's Wing is lovely as always, though, and it's nice seeing the characters come together again. Gwenllian is excellent. It's great seeing the Wingleaders find out their Riders' secret, although I suspect the meeting itself would be better left off-screen - it's more of a resolution than extra story.

I wanted to see some more tension between Intelligencers and their Leaders. All our main characters accepted it without question; it would've been nice to see examples of the relationship being a bit more strained. Or maybe Madog and Adara having a quiet word, for instance.