His ears were ringing even still.

Not normally one for indulging in alcohol had its benefits. He was free to avoid the red-faced mockery that pursued such souls inside the walls of the Castel. But perhaps most of all he was free from the possibility of losing control. That ache behind his eyes which would not abate, no matter how he pinched his nose. This sore jaw which was purpling with each passing moment. Insistent hands were pressing into the side of his face. Trying to smear away blood, find the source of the wound. Eragos was seated on an overturned crate, boots pulled high and trousers stuffed into the tops of his boots. Not his uniform. Plain tan trousers, a short coat that ended just above his belt, and a high collar that currently rested against the back of his neck. Should have been blood on it. He touched the fabric with bare hands.

( Blood. )

Strange to see the place without a change at all. Eragos had been expecting more soldiers in the wind, more pikes, more of a show of force. There were no soldiers in sight, which counted technically as a change, except the same lanterns were swinging from the same wagons to light the area outside of them. There were twenty or so men gathered, but none of them were soldiers. And they were arguing. Loudly. It was impossible not to hear them upon approaching the wagons, and while Vargis was still at his side Eragos caught the man's shoulder. Something about this situation was wrong, wrong in the way that their escape from here alone did not explain. Where were all the mercenaries? A thought on that matter was beginning to resolve itself in his mind.

( Not a thought he wanted to entertain for long. )

Eithne shut the door behind her as quietly as she could muster and started off down the corridor. She was in her uniform once again, although her arm was still in the blue sling from the day before. Healers could do enough, but when it was a strain it was pointless and a 'waste of talent' to have them heal that. Besides, even with a team of a thousand healers she was pretty sure she'd still feel as kicked around as she did right now. It wasn't so much her meeting with the Captain that had her feeling so black inside, and anyone who knew the real story knew exactly why she felt the way she did. Cols, Martine, and Geoff weren't tailing after her for once, which meant they were probably back on this duty or that duty. She hoped it was hoeing the yard, or fetching water from outside of Simanel without a horse and bringing it back into the City.

That would have been amusing on any other day. It was a bit amusing, but she doubted Agrippa would give them the same punishment he'd given her. Of course, that was probably because she'd just spent the last hour retelling everything she knew, and how none of them were responsible for what happened, or how it happened, or anything. Eithne had taken every bit of blame, of course it was up to Agrippa whether or not he'd be punishing the others... but she'd said what she felt she needed to. It hadn't been their fault. She had forced each and every one of them to go. With blackmail.. and worse.. She'd purposely begged Eragos to go along. She'd used to friendship with him to gain ground. She'd even.. well.

It was easier to paint herself a horrible person right now. Easier to say she was using them all the entire time then to think she was as emotionally unbalanced as she had been, as she was now. It felt like there was a great gaping hole where her heart used to be, and a month tending to every one's least favorite thing to guard wasn't going to brighten her up. No, she was pretty sure she'd end up slitting her own throat in the end.

( Black and getting blacker. )

Fire was crackling before him. Yet all he could think of was the crazed look in Xias' eyes. I am doing my duty, the man had said. Xias might have known what he meant when he said that, but Eragos was completely in the dark. Aside from the fire he felt he'd seen no illumination in some time. And yet even the fire was small, buried in a pit, bordered by rocks, so that there was no light at all. Only warmth, and a touch of smoke that would disappear into the night sky. Winter's strong pine would carry the scent of it away. Vargis knew the trick of it, but Eragos could not remember the last time he'd needed to conceal his movements. Snow was still on the ground, but enough had fallen to hide the horses' tracks since they'd stopped for the night. Now they were all huddled under cloaks and pretending that the snow didn't trouble them. Xias must have been close to losing his sanity just then. He must have been organizing a search. The question was, what form would that search take?

( And how many would die for it? )

Everyone they questioned pointed them in the same direction. Every contact Eithne could have contacted, every person who she knew had known Boq showed them where they thought they would find them. She'd already known where to go, but asking questions was the right way to do things, and she had hoped she would be wrong. She was not. Boq wanted her to find him here, and wanted to end her here. The sixth circle. It wasn't so unlike that of the circle in Oisea, concealed so easily in another building, but Trone was less obvious and it was no farmhouse.

( Much larger than that. )

Greenwist was much more of a talker when he was missing a limb. She wondered if he'd confess everything he'd ever done if Eragos picked up his sword against him again, but then they didn't need that. She wasn't sure if Eragos would stop, even if he desired justice and law, she had seen the darkness in his eyes while she laid on the floor dying. It was almost frightening. Instead it was Greenwist reciting things in hushed words while watching Eragos with fear painting his old face. The plan was to get the information they needed and then to leave him useless back in the castel. Of course, Eithne wasn't very much for planning anything and it meant they'd need to knock the mage out again. Martine had a dagger trained on the mage's throat as he talked.

Boq was behind all of this. But it hadn't started ith him. It started with Greenwist, but it was Boq that took control. Money spoke as much as actions. Where Greenwist was intimidating, and could kill, the mage preferred to work with fear rather than blood. Slaaven was an enforcer, and an idiot, but he had a job in this and was thankfully already in custody. Now two pieces of the puzzle were there for Agrippa. If he couldn't be satisfied with that then she didn't know what she'd do. Boq was not going to return to Simanel, or to Oisea. Not without a fight. But which would be worse? Killing her friend, or at least watching him die. Or having him imprisoned and letting the courts deal with him?

( She couldn't answer that by herself. )

Eragos,

I can meet you at Ganva. A small village between here and Tyrus, the sort of place that no one stops unless they have to. Rumor is that your wagons visit this place often for supplies and a pair of days' rest for the teams, the soldiers. It should not be difficult to time my arrival properly provided I left yesterday and wasted three horses. The timetable will be difficult, but I will see you in the village or not far outside of it. The runner guaranteed me that he would have this letter in your hands before you reached the village. If he succeeded, you're to give him two gold crowns. Trone crowns, of course, since they're the heaviest. Now don't be cheap old friend.

Suspecting that Eragos had been given enough time to read the note, the runner coughed. Or perhaps that was merely a result of his hard run through all the damnable hills of the low country to try and reach Eragos before the knight reached Ganva. There in the dark, with only the two of them, Eragos could have sent the boy away in anger. Doubtless he'd run faster and harder for the promise of two crowns. Even knowing his feat would be nearly impossible, and that they were now only a half-day's ride from the village, the boy had tried. He might hate the author for being so free with money that was not his own - but such was life. Eragos did not concern himself with such things.

( At least, he tried not to. )

The morning air was friend to no one, least of all those who slept in tents and built fires to warm themselves. By the time sleep kissed their cheeks only the embers remained. Overnight, heat would build below the surface of the tent, and they would wake warm. But most did not secure their furs, or their coats, or whatever means they'd brought on the journey to stay warm. That meant some of the teamsters whose sole job was to drive the wagons were drinking from flasks at first light. To keep warm, they said. Eragos had seen better ways to keep warm in his many years on this world. They were better because they were less expensive, and because they did not render you useless on account of your intoxication. That was one of his lesser troubles, which was both commentary on the journey as a whole and on the severity of his opinion. There was no shortage of opinions - but his was one of the few that mattered, because his was the only one that was not being paid by the merchant. He could leave whenever he wanted. Agrippa's orders made that clear.

( It was not his first choice. )

Eragos had been right about one thing, Greenwist did have a home here in Oisea. The only problem so far had been actually getting anywhere near the thing. Agrippa most likely already had people out looking for them, and then Greenwist had his own brand of guards. Each bigger and uglier than the next. Eragos and the rest were in uniform, and blended in quite well with the other Riders that seemed to be patrolling the streets more often than usual. Eithne in plain clothes fit in with the rest of the people still out and about. She didn't feel right about this. Knocking on some one's door was too simple. It would end in someone dying, or much worse. She was as uneasy with approaching Greenwist's home as she was about talking about her feelings. So she was very very uneasy.

Eragos appeared to be as confident as he usually was. Wearing his sword as if it'd protect him from the magic that Greenwist possessed. Martine, and Cols also looked confident. Geoff seemed almost smug. He'd broke them out. Eithne still wanted to question him about that. He was spineless most of the time, easy to scare, even easier to beat at cards and yet he appeared to have some past that he hadn't shared as well. A thief? Eithne wanted to sneak around while Eragos wanted to walk right up to the door.

( She was still shooting him dirty looks whenever his back was turned to her. )

Someone somewhere was laughing at them. Geoff, Cols, and Martine were all looking through their set of bars towards the set of bars holding Eithne and Eragos in. Eithne didn't look as upset as she might have normally. Really, getting arrested was something she was used to, she doubted that any of them ever spent much time in a jail cell. When it came to the White Riders, well, at least they kept you well fed. She was sitting on the floor of the cell, facing the wall and digging a pebble against the stone there. "I've been in this cell before." She mentioned. Eragos didn't even grunt. Their conversations thus far had been done mostly with wild stares, sour faces, and shrugging on Eithne's part.

( It really wasn't that bad. )

Simanel had a huge marketplace, one that she'd found herself fighting in more than once. Before and after she'd joined the Riders. The reason they used the marketplace for the fourth circle was because while public, it was also had a great number of exits and was nearly always crowded. Even at night. Down one street you could find any spirit you wanted to drink, down another there were girls of every size, shape, color, and age for your liking. There really was something for everyone. She'd been down these back alleys more times than she could count. She'd rolled dice there, spat blood onto that wall, and well.. other things less.. disorderly.

Eragos had been fairly quiet since they'd arrived. Martine, Cols, and Geoff hardly stopped talking. They were all in plain clothes again. She wasn't much for dresses, but it wasn't someone who knew her here in Simanel would have expected her to wear. Tailored and fine, she could and did hide a dagger under the dress. She didn't bring her gloves, and partially regretted it. But they were far more obvious. None of them wanted to run into anyone they knew. None of them wanted to fall into line with the white riders who did patrol around here.

( It happened far less than any would have expected. )

Eithne would gladly have never put this uniform on again if it meant she could figure out what she was suppose to do with the information she had now. The ledger was in her pack, and she had her head upon it. The wagon was as shakey as any wagon, and while she could have sat and sneered at it she was glad she didn't have to walk to Simanel, and even glader to not have to ride into it. The problem was they had to be in uniform when they handed over Slaaven, and disappearing from Agethlea in uniform and onto the trail of Simanel was done much easier. Didn't mean that she liked it. The uniform now made her very nervous. If anyone, or Slaaven, said a word about them being Riders they'd be out, the path in front of them would collapse and they'd find themselves face to face with Agrippa and empty handed.

She wanted to kill Slaaven and leave it at that, but his death would raise more questions than his arrest would. No one would suspect them right away. Maybe Greenwist, but before long they'd find the mage again and this time they had questions to ask. This time it'd be on their terms. She was ready for both of them to die without question. They were the reason for this. They were behind it. They just needed proof now. Without them, and without following this through she'd find nothing and no answers.

No answers was not something Eithne could live with right now. But there they were. At least as White Riders they had a free ride into the city. The wagon train of merchants bringing goods to and from the cities was happy to have the five of them along free of charge as long as the Riders would protect them from thieves, or worse, on the road. Eragos wasn't even feet away from her, and the rest of them were in another wagon entirely. The reason she couldn't live without answers was because the only answer she had right now is that all of this was her fault. All of this led back to her and it made no sense for it to. Maybe Reg dying was her fault, maybe she was too hard on him in the circle. But why the rest of it? Why did it keep coming back to haunt her?

( She could have lived with herself if it would just go away. )

Eragos had won his third circle battle, but now both of them had a new objective. Eithne originally thought the only way to the truth would be through the circles, but Eragos had a much better idea. Slaaven was the key to something, she didn't know if it was the answers she was looking for, or for why Callum was dead. But he had to have answers. Besides, the man was an asshole and she hated the ground he stood on, let alone the man himself. But what she didn't know, was if Eragos was prepared for Slaaven. He looked the part. There in the darkness of the hallway of the inn. Slaaven was in his room, and Eragos had that huge sword with him.

He looked the part, but was he willing to play it? Somehow she felt like this was all his idea, but then some nagging voice in the back of her head said it'd always been hers she just hadn't been willing to do it without his approval. She was dragging Eragos along on this ride, and she honestly felt bad about it. Cols, Geoff, Martine... She didn't feel bad about. But none of them were there right now. It was just Eragos, it was just Eithne.

( They had to be careful and quick with the lock and doorknob. )

Eithne had been glad to leave behind the thoughts of Reg when Eragos said they would be returning to finish registering for his next fight, but now that the wound was out in the open she wasn't sure that he'd just forget it, or stop talking about it. Part of her wanted to shrink back from him forever. No one needed to know the embarrassing parts of her life that were hopeless and filled with tears. She wanted him to know that she didn't let all of it consume her forever. Sure, she'd spent a good amount of time seeking the death that should of been hers only to find more fights that she could win. Only to find..

Well she'd found him eventually. or he'd found her. But that was after she'd gained the swagger back in her step, the youth, the arrogance that made her what she was. She was a good fighter. She was a better gambler, and a thief if she needed to be. She would survive it all and not look back. But this place, these memories, had her wondering things. Had her at the end of the knife again. She wanted to see him again. See Reg and know it wasn't her. She wanted to hear him whisper it before the end.

She had to know or else it'd consume her finally. If she was the devil in this then she would die just as anyone else should have after taking away such a good soul from the world.

( But was it her, or was it Slaaven? Or Greenwist? )

A feast day was a fine thing, in Astora. From his window Eragos could see parades of men marching in the street, playing all instruments of almost every kind, and in the livery of noble houses. it was latticed in iron, this window, with stained glass but for the winged messengers of Armas who carried each a sword and shield. It was through these winged creatures that he peered down, and out, but the novelty wore off quickly. Sitting on a stone sill, waiting for the rain to let up, had the appeal of sitting on stone to stay out of the rain. It was precisely that exciting. Eragos felt every ounce of every wound that had been inflicted on him since departing Malondir. Even if most of those injuries had been healed by one of the court mages who danced attendance on the prince and his. Quite a sight, riding into the city like that, throwing up a column of dust and flying the prince's colors ahead of them like a weapon. They'd had enough time to open the gate and little else.

( That was all the time that was needed. )

Eithne didn't want to take Eragos along, anyone but Eragos would have been more welcome. Cols would have been welcome, Martine, even Geoff and his stupidity. It wasn't that she didn't like Eragos, or didn't trust him. But out of the group he was the most volatile. He even put her to shame at times. More so here than she'd ever seen. He wasn't calm, he wasn't a stone like he claimed she could be if she tried. He had a short fuse, he was ready to kill people. It wasn't him. It wasn't like him. Did something here set him on edge? Or was it her, was it because she was so affected by the surroundings. Because she kept coming back worse for wear? Eithne sighed.

They spent an hour staring each other down. Eragos said he was going and then he wouldn't stop staring her down until she agreed. It took an hour, because she wasn't going to just lay down for him and let him go. She was afraid of what they'd run into. She was more afraid that he'd kill everyone if they gave them the wrong look. In the end he won the staring contest, but only because she was more afraid of what he'd do if she didn't take him along.

( Like follow her there and burn the place to the ground. )

The night had been long and rough, and the next day was no better. All of them anxious and waiting for death to knock at the door. Eragos seemed determined, quiet and determined. As much a Knight as he'd always been, the silent way he watched, the way he gripped his blade when they heard a foot step onto the landing outside their door, and just.. how he was. He was a knight. Every moment, even when it was silent, brought her closer to telling him what she'd wanted to not long ago. How sorry she was for yelling at him like a child. How sorry she was that she'd been a stone when he needed something more. A Ghost of a hand that held her cheek would keep her awake even when she could have napped.

Cards lay on the floor where she and Cols had played a game. But now all of them were clean, dressed, and ready for the next fight. Not that they would be fighting. It was Eragos. The journey was not long, but it was long enough for Eithne to explain about it. The second circle, the moving circle, was staged on the river that Agethlea was built beside. Or as some said, the river suddenly flowed to serve the city of justice. The circle itself was moved and rebuilt by slaves it was said. For it couldn't stay in one place for too long so close to the city. As well as when the seasons changed and the river rose and fell. They needed as level a ground as a river could give them, all the while keeping the same disadvantages. Logs that seemed to appear from nowhere to trip you. Rocks to slide on, and deep pools to fall in.

( Eithne had enjoyed it when she'd fought upon it. )

The Boar's Tooth Inn was not known for it's ale, or for how clean it was.. as both were just relatively good. but it was known for being cheap. It was also known for being a good place for less savory travellers to stay. That is where she chose them to stay, although Geoff had harped something about staying in Hyacinth Cross instead to which Eithne had promptly took his hand and bent his fingers back one at a time until he wept his agreement without actually shedding a tear, and so that was where Eragos, Geoff, Martine, and Cols were. Waiting in their room, while Eithne ventured out of the inn the moment they had purchased a room, and back out into the outskirts of Agethlea.

What none of them knew wouldn't kill them. Eithne should have mentioned what this circle was like before going off to register for a fight. But she hadn't wanted to sit with them after their long journey from Oisea, especially not after she'd been so.. soft about how she felt about the situation. Normally things didn't bother her like this. Normally spending money made her feel better. This time it did not. This time was so much different. Going into the circles again made her feel different, she felt severed from it, alien to all of it.

( How did she fit into this anymore? )

The gold weighed enough to make her fingers itch. She wanted desperately to ferret it away on things none of them entirely needed. Most of it was still with her, but she had given a good amount to Cols, whom she trusted to not blow it on stupid things, for dinner and drinks for him, Martine, and Geoff. She was standing at the bottom of the stairs looking at the room that occupied Eragos alone now. She could keep her distance for only so long. He wanted to know why she couldn't fight, she wished she could have fought instead of him, and she dreaded telling him anything. Anything about it.

( She regretted it so much. )

There was a major problem still looming over her head when they rode into Oisea's borders. She still hadn't cornered Cols, and last night when she had one small chance to Martine had appeared there with a questioning look in his eye. There was no reason for Eithne to be sleeping anywhere near Cols, as she had her own patch of grass to call her own. She didn't want Martine asking absurd questions or getting that look in his eye.. As if he could hold something above her head. Some blackmail.. a rumor she didn't need. Cols was safe for now.

But the hours were drawing together and there was no time to waste. Once they were in Oisea it wasn't hard to get a couple of rooms in the inn. Home, she was home. She'd stayed in this very inn the last time she'd slept in Oisea. Eithne didn't want to think about that too much, the last time she'd slept in Oisea had been before she'd joined the Riders. Afterwards.. well. Simanel could never be called home. But Oisea was just as far from it, and yet it was home. All she needed to do was break Cols from the group.

( Easier said than done. )