“Guides and backup.” Evain shifts in his seat. The way Leth watches him is only getting more distracting. “Shae says you’ve been tracking the wild magic flares. Rifts tend to open in the same places, so guiding us to known hot-spots would help.”
Georgia nods. “Easy enough. We’ve been working with a few Lyrisenians too. They know their backyard better than we do.”
“Are any of them witches?” Haldis asks. “Any of your mercenaries, too?”
“Yes and yes, a few of them at least.”
Evain’s eyes stray once again to Leth, who’s sitting perfectly straight in his wooden chair. His face looks softer in the firelight, and the chair is a bit too tall for him. The tips of his toes don’t quite touch the floor.
“I’d like to split into two groups, so we can hit multiple regions at once.” Evain’s attention returns to Georgia. “Each group with a few of us and a few of you. How many can you spare? I want to spread out, but not spread you too thin.”
“I need to talk with Reed and the council before I make any promises, but two squads should be doable.” Georgia taps her map again. “You and I can talk about geography, but one squad should focus on the area around Sasana. There’s fifty stubborn Lyrisenians still living there, and the vaidkos are getting bad. How are you lot dividing up?”
Two squads. This is the part where Ronan would discuss who wants to go where. Get everyone’s input on their own strengths and interests. But Evain isn’t Ronan. He doesn’t have maps to point at, and he doesn’t need feedback on personnel distribution.
The only one he’s not sure about is Freya. She’s definitely been fucking Haldis and Marta, but Evain’s inhuman intuition tells him she’s not looking to settle down. Forcing further proximity might be more fraught than fun.
“Arthur, Shae, and Freya are one group,” Evain decides. Sure enough, Marta looks a little disappointed, but Freya and Haldis seem content with the arrangement. Pleased with himself, Evain holds Leth’s gaze next. “Haldis, Marta, and Leth are with me.”
He could have let Leth choose. Ronan would have. Each group already had two paladins and—ostensibly—a demon-bound mage. Leth was the odd one out. But Evain is very selfish. He wants the power Leth gives him, and he wants to be able to admire Leth at his leisure.
Leth looks away without saying anything, and Evain claps his hands. “Well, it looks like any further planning will have to await Georgia’s budget discussions. Shall we adjourn, and reconvene tomorrow? I’d planned on staying in Lanwatch for a week anyway.”
Everyone disperses except for Evain, Leth, and Georgia. “We’re going to sealwaymore rifts than you,” Marta says as they leave.
Freya shakes her fist. “Want to bet?”
Reed appears out of nowhere, silent as Georgia’s shadow. He sets a fresh tray of beers on a vacated chair, and this time Leth takes one.
“Are those marks rifts?” Leth asks, moving to the couch for a better view of the map.
“Aye,” Georgia says. “Crosses are confirmed, and circles are approximate, or hearsay from locals.” She cracks her neck with a sharp snap. “This should be the army’s job. They’ve been ignoring the north for too long, as if Praia’s ever going to actually invade the west.”
“They won’t ignore it for much longer,” Evain says. “Like I said, the crown and churches are sending troops north soon. The Radiant Order’s new prophet is—” Reckless. Impulsive. Idealistic. All of eighteen years old, with the energy to prove it. “—not the type to get bogged down by bureaucracy.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it.” Georgia grabs a tankard but doesn’t drink. Just holds it, like a habit. “A troop of soldiers rode through here not a week ago. Fool me, I thought the crown had finally taken heed of my messages and sent that lot to help, but no. Their limp cock of a commander didn’t even have time to meet with me. Fucking Dravans.”
Alarm zings through Evain as Leth’s tankard clatters to the ground.
Beer spills over the floor, and Leth scrambles up, pale-faced. “I’m so sorry. Could you get me a towel? I’ll clean this up.”
“Sit back down,” Georgia says, unperturbed. She leans forward and presses her own untouched tankard into Leth’s hands. “Reed will get it.”
“Will he?” Reed mutters, but disappears into another room anyway. He returns with a rag of indeterminate color and drops it in the puddle, then just leaves it to soak without wiping it at all.
“Sorry,” Leth says again.
Evain waits, but it doesn’t seem like Leth’s going to say anything else. So it’s Evain who asks what he thinks Leth wants to ask. “Do you know who was leading the Dravans?”
Leth’s fingers tighten on the tankard.
“How could I not?” Georgia rolls her eyes. “His aides were very clear that the illustrious General ka Tariel didn’t have time to talk to Riverswords ruffians. The new General ka Tariel, that is. Anton. His mother retired years ago.”
Evain isn’t being considerate, asking questions on Leth’s behalf. His motives are purely selfish: he doesn’t want anyone else to see Leth vulnerable. “Where were they going? What were they doing, if they weren’t answering your messages?”
“No idea what they were doing, but they rode north.” Georgia grimaces. “Maybe they’re demon-hunting like us. I know there was a vaidkos incident outside Melody a few months ago, and the Dravans are dicks but they’re not stupid. Hunting at the source is better. But if they’re demon-hunting, they’re not being team players about it.”
“What a shame,” Evain says. “I love being a team player. The more the merrier.”
