Partisan - Book II

Lei

The base, a tall, flat creature of dark stone and steel, sits high on the clifftop, looking out across the smooth black lake. The wind howls here, caterwauling up along the mountain pass and out over the wide, unending vista below.

It is an unwelcoming place, and Allayria almost takes pleasure in that, pleasure in its flat refusal of warmth. It is a place of war, and it does not pretend otherwise.

Ruben seems to feel differently. He gazes up at the imposing geometric structure and frowns, distaste written across his face. But of course he feels this way; in the high winds and frigid air very little grows here.

Allayria feels a pang of remorse that it is she who has brought him to this place, away from his garden and the soft, shining sun; and shame, that he feels he must stay with her.

Weak, she thinks. Weak and failing.

"You are a Nature-caller when you are here," Ruben tells her, and she feels the comfort of his heavy hand on her shoulder. "Until it is time you must pretend to be only that. Can you do it?"

She looks over at him, stepping outside of his touch.

"Oh yes, I think I can manage."

She passes under the first archway and feels its shadow settle onto her.

"We will first meet with Beinsho, and he will give us directions to our chambers and whatever else we might need," Ruben continues on, quieter now. He does not repeat his gesture. "Then we will train."

"I understand."

The commander is mostly unchanged from their last meeting, though now he wears full military regalia, the dark burgundy of his jacket accented with silver along the seams of his shoulders and in the parallel lines of the roughly-hewn buttons running down the front. Dark pants and thick, leather boots complete the ensemble, which gives him even more of an air of rigidity and order than before.

His gaze is as searching as ever when he clasps her hand, bowing low again. 

Beinsho brings the pair up to speed on the Jarles' movements and his trip to inform the council.

"They agreed," he says with a side-eye to Allayria, "that the plan to delay your reveal is best."

He doesn't mention what they said about the information she gave him. She wonders what that means.

"There is something we must discuss before you go to your quarters," he adds, turning around and tapping a small bell on his desk. It makes no sound and Allayria stares at it a moment, wondering if the action was an impulse of mere whimsy, but then again Beinsho doesn't seem to be the type who knows what whimsy is.

"I know you plan to continue your training with Ruben while you stay here," he continues, "but there is something you will also need to work on while you are here: your guard."

"My guard?" Allayria echoes, and the corners of her lips pull down into a frown.

"You are the Paragon," Beinsho states. "There are many people who would see you harmed, or captured for their own benefit. You need someone to protect you."

Allayria's jaw locks, the hairs on the back of her neck bristling at his words.

"I appreciate the concern, commander," she manages in an even tone, "but I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

Beinsho considers her.

"Even the best of us has to rest," he answers. "The Paragon has a long, twisted history, and you have already made choices that do not ingratiate you to many. In the long term, the wisest course of action would be to pick a companion untethered by political fealty or partiality. Someone you can trust. Right now, you're going to have to make do with the men I can offer you."