brand new colony

The last two weeks she's been cuffed to a pipe in the basement of the shed out in the middle of one of New Britain's wide, dry plains -- she doesn't know which one. The two men who cuffed her and blindfolded her and brought her here were careful, but not gentle, cautious of hurting her badly but not of hurting her.

Eluned will come get her, she tells herself, over and over. Eluned and Papa will come get her free.

But when help finally comes, it isn't her family. The two lawmen from Camallate are the Dragon's nephews, and perhaps she should feel cowed by their importance, but she doesn't. She's too tired for that. They shoot the men who took her, or at least one of them does, she doesn't know, she only saw the end of it when somebody uncuffed her and led her out in the light, blinding after all this time in the darkness.

Half of her is still afraid to trust them. She doesn't know them. One of them is rough, and swears and spits and reminds her too much of her captors. The other is quieter, but no less strange.

They travel as far as they can while the light holds, and then make camp. The men build a small fire and roast chunks of protein and boil coffee. Lianor eats a little, but her stomach is shrunk and cramped. The rough one stretches out in the sandy dirt and sleeps, and the other one stays up, his pistols beside him, watching the fire.

She lies down, but she doesn't sleep. She looks into the fire. She draws circles in the dirt with her fingertips and tries to shake the feeling that they're just waiting to tie her up again and leave her in some other dark hole. Finally she sits up and reaches for the coffee pot.

Cai feels, sometimes, that he's built himself from scratch into the person Aythr needs him to be. Some people give him guff for being too rough around the edges, too Britain - people want their leaders to be better than them, not the same. Good thing I'm not leading, he thinks, wry. He wears the right clothes and stands at his brother's shoulder and keeps his mouth shut and quietly makes sure everything runs.

That middle part is important.

But he can't change his nature entirely, and he wouldn't if he could. Aythr's his king, but Aythr also relies on him in ways he doesn't think Cai notices. Or maybe he does; his brother, Cai thinks, has always been stupid in very limited and selective ways that have more to do with being a good man than one without any brains

Part of him wants to keep quiet, because he saw how it was before, with Anna. And he likes Gwen, or did. Grudgingly, maybe, but she kept Aythr in line and pulled him out of the misery his first romance had put him through. Now this. If they were private people living private lives, he might have gone to Gwen, but they aren't, and he doesn't have the luxury.

So he clears part of Aythr's schedule, which is easier when he's in charge of it, and they find themselves alone in a car that Cai's carefully checked for bugs, with a ride that's long but not too long in front of them.

Cai's thoughtful, quiet, and doesn't speak right off.

It's been a long day.

Anna's been on her feet since early this morning, making rounds, doing follow-up on some of the nastier injuries, stopping to talk with anyone she can get a few moments off to the side with. A lot of the nurses and most of the field medics like her, seem to trust her. She knows what she's doing, she's shown them, and she knows if she's got their backing it'll make it easier to press the issue of command when the time comes.

She's just gotten back from the showers, and is sitting on the little bed that's been given her in the cramped little room in one of the outbuildings, plaiting her wet hair. She's worn out, to be honest, but strangely wired. Anna doesn't mind the work, the hours; there isn't anywhere else she'd rather be. There's so much to be done, but she'll impose the downtime on herself.

That Athyr sends for Lanselos and not someone else is partly a conciliatory gesture--he wants Lanse to know he's forgiven for the fight in the mess. His intention is to talk to him for a little while before he sends him out, but as usual the combination of responsibilities and the need to reenter the Glamorgan negotiations steals most of his time.

All he really has the opportunity to do is to tell Lanselos, "I got word from Marguel that a freight convoy from Escalot went down early this morning. Gorram thing crashed and burned--I need you to get out there now and find out what happened, scout me any survivors, pick up any of the freight that's still worth takin' and chase off the scavengers, do whatever you can. You got the authority to take as many men as you need." He squeezes Lanselos' shoulder. "Thanks. Know you're the man for the job."

Then he finishes buttoning up the official jacket and disappears back into the negotiation room with a smile over his shoulder for Lanselos.