*COMPLETE* Allayria promised to do what it takes to stop the Jarles, to make the ugly decision. She thinks, at last, she understands what the dynast meant. The lesson earned from the top of that lonely cliff and given the dark murky water below.
It...
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The air plumes with smoke. It's a farce of contained chaos, of soldiers running to and fro, of boxes being Skilled together and carted up on clanging ramps, of officers shouting and directing amongst all the rush.
They're boarding, they're packing up and Ruben is nowhere in sight. Neither is Hiran, Tara informs her in a breathless rush, but this concerns Allayria less. There is plenty of nonsense for the charming, golden-haired man to get up to, even amidst the formation of a marching force.
They're boarding the soldiers, boarding everyone when Ruben finally turns up. Hiran surprisingly trails behind, and he flashes her a brief, white-toothed smile, his feet already leading him to Tara... but he is not the most surprising follower Ruben has.
The other, old and withered, moves remarkably quick, a shadow in Ruben's wake, but Allayria knows this man. Knows him, because he was here the last time she set foot in this city, because—
"I miss Magda," Iaves had spluttered, a hand clutched at his side, after the old innkeep jabbed him with the sharp end of his cane.
When the man's gaze flits over toward her she sees the sly flicker of recognition in his eyes too, and she turns to demand—
Ruben looks at her, eyes a bright blue in the scattered light.
"Don't ask me about it," he tells her quietly. "Don't ask anything about it."
It catches her, snatching the words in her mouth, leaving her staring, hard and lost, as the two old men disappear into the crowd. Lei is at her side now, leaning in, murmuring:
"Who was that?"
A ghost.
At least she knows one thing for certain now: Ruben is keeping secrets.
She turns, ignoring the question she has no answer to, making to follow Hiran, who had been following Ruben—when the Marshall Marron catches her arm.
"You're not on Ship 1," she says, glancing down at the roster. "You're Ship 5."
"Ship 5?" Allayria repeats. "What for? I'd prefer to go to Ship 1."
"No, the General and Lord Baulieu are Ship 1," Marron says doggedly, gesturing to the ship Hiran had climbed on. "Chieftainess Dost and Miss Leaft are Ship 3," —another vague gesture to an identically-looking ship— "and you and Lieutenant Lei are with Master Ruben and the feral child on Ship 5." She points to a cluster of ships at the end of the line.
"I think they could fit—"
"There aren't enough quarters—"
"Thank you, Marshall," Lei cuts in and Allayria's muscles lock as he sets a hand on her shoulder, as if to pull her back. "We'll go to our ship."
He pauses.
"Ah... which..?"
Marron looks down at the cluster too, and then points to one near the end.
