Lyn and Elle were just outside of the group, in the tree line. The nomadic girl was shifting from foot to foot, looking nervous.
"What do I do Elle? I don't know how to address knights! Especially ones who saved my life, I really screwed up thanking you, I don't want to do that again!"
The Ostian spy smiled slightly, "Be you Lyn, treat them like your tribe!"
Lyn hesitated.
"Go on!" said Elle, "Just do it!" she gave Lyn a light shove.
Lyn straightened her shoulders, head high, then strode out to meet the knights and tactician.
"That's the last of them! Fantastic work Mark!"
Mark bowed slightly, "At your service my lady, merely doing my job," his gazed roved over the two girls, taking in the disgruntled Elle, who was still sour at not being able to catch the mysterious man, to Lyn, who was unused to being addressed as a lady and was fidgeting uncomfortably. His grey eyes seemed to laugh inwardly at the picture they painted.
Lyn's mouth opened once, then closed.
"Well your 'duty' as you call it is highly appreciated," said Elle, saving the flabbergasted Lyn, 'But surely there is a reason why two knights a a tactician are traveling the Sacae countryside."
Kent looked briefly at Mark, who gave the slightest of nods.
"Yes," the crimson knight said, "We have ventured from Caelin, in Lycia, in search of someone."
"Lycia. . ." said Lyn slowly, trying to place the area.
"Lycia is the country beyond the mountains in the southwest," offered Elle, "It is ruled by a league of nobles, one from each territory."
Kent looked surprise by the answer, "Correct. We've come as messengers to the lady Madelyn, who eloped with a nomad some 19 years ago."
"Madelyn?" Lyn's face was worth a thousand words, and Elle was extremely grateful that these were not enemies, had they been, Lyn's face would have given them away in an instant.
Mark nodded, "Our lord the marquess of Caelin's only daughter. He was heartbroken his own daughter would abandon him so. Eventually, the marquess simply declared that he had no daughter."
Sain, who'd been silent up until now, cut across the delivery of facts, clearly wanting to get to the interesting part, "And then this year, we received a letter from Lady Madelyn. It said that she, her husband, and their daughter were living happily on the Sacae plains. The marquess was ecstatic to learn he had a granddaughter of 18 years. I remember the smile on his face when he announced that he'd suddenly become a grandfather. The granddaughter's name is Lyndis. This was also the name of the marquess's wife, who passed away at an early age. That she should bear this name thawed the marquess's heart. Now, his only wish is to meet his daughter's family at least once. This is why we're here. We didn't know that Lady Madelyn died a few days after sending her letter. . . We only learned this shortly after we arrived here in Bulgar.
"But," said Mark, with a look that showed his displeasure of being interrupted, "We also learned all was not lost. Her daughter yet lives. We heard that she was living alone on the plains. With that information, will you come with us. . . Lyndis?"
Lyn's posture became rigid, "Why would you think that-"
"Your resemblance to your departed mother is remarkable," said Elle softly.
The girl rounded on her, "What? Did you know my mother?"
Kent frowned at Adelle, "No, she would have seem the portraits in Castle Caelin."
"I did."
Lyn sighed, then gazed back the way the two girls had come from, "I will go with you," she said.
They hadn't traveled far that day, most of them being too tired or, in Lyn's case, emotionally spent, to cover much ground. They'd set up camp around a small fire, and as dusk fell, the knights had gone toward the perimeters to keep watch, leaving Elle, Mark, and Lyn alone in the shimmering circle of orange light.
"Sain told me that the bandits were probably henchmen of my uncle, Lundgren," said Lyn again, "That I was an obstacle to my uncle's ambitions to take the throne," she looked deep into the fire, as if she'd find the answer there, "It's all so strange Elle, one moment, I'm alone in the world, the next I have family, and the next, half my remaining family is trying to kill me."
"It sounds messed up, doesn't it?" agreed Elle, looking to where the shadowy figures of the four horses grazed.
Lyn sighed, "Yes, it does."
For a few moments, there was no sound save the ripping of grass roots coming free from the soil as the horses ate, the crackle of the fire, and the slight scratching of Mark's quill across the paper he'd brought.
"What should I do?" asked Lyn, "I said I'd travel with you Elle, but this," she gestured to the three men, "What do I do?" she echoed.
The Ostian girl had been asking herself that for the last couple of hours, You've done your job, said the professional spy, leave them to get to Caelin, they'll make it, they don't need you anymore, take your leave and give your report back to Lord Hector. But what of the archer? asked the other part of her, Who was behind that? What of the help this small group needs?
"Elle?"
Adelle shook herself out of her reverie, "You need to do what you believe is best Lyn, I can't decide for you," she chuckled a bit, "After all, I am technically still a stranger. My advice is of no importance."
Lyn rose to her feet, "The morning will bring clarity with it maybe," she said, "Good night Adelle."
The spy caught the coldness in Lyn's voice, and didn't discount the use of her full name, Too hard Elle, that was rather heartless of you!
Elle sighed, "Night."
A metallic shifting sound came from behind Elle, drawing her attention.
"Kent."
The crimson knight stepped into view, "I do not trust you," he said simply.
Elle grinned, "Ah, right to the point, and honest to boot!"
The knight's eyes narrowed, "Unlike you, you are both a thief and a liar."
Elle's smile didn't drop, in anything, it got wider, " Funny how often a person is both."
There was a louder sliding of plate armor as he quickly moved forward, forcing the sitting girl to lean back to meet his eyes, "Enough games."
"Games? You call this a game? I was under the impression we were talking, does this mean you jest?" said Elle.
Kent's jaw tighteed, "This is now game. I do not jest," he said kurtly.
"So few trust a thief," she said, remembering that, to the knight, that's all she was, "I wouldn't trust a thief either."
"Why were you really in Caelin?" he asked, "Why were you employed in the house of milord?"
"Gold," lied the spy easily, "You knights in Caelin do a thorough job of keeping the citizens safe and pickpocket-free. I was hungry, tried being honest."
"I suppose gold is your reason for sticking so close to Lady Lyndis as well? Or are you involved for the fame?"
Elle took on a look that made her seem wistful, "Neither, I think I'm going to try being an honest woman for a bit, see where it takes me."
Kent snorted, "Right, only a fool would believe that, I take pride in not helping to fill the ranks of fools," he step back out of the ring of light, "Know this; you may have pulled wool over the eyes of my lady, but you are being watched very closely. I will not cease my vigil of protection, Theif."
He turned on his heel and left, leaving the girl with a feeling of satisfaction that she'd caused him to believe her. Elle stood and stretched, throwing a quick glance around the campsite. She crossed to Samir's saddlebags, which lay discarded by the fire, then dug for her blanket. In a rather short amount of time, she'd found it, and was just passing Mark, when he stopped her.
"Elle, hold a moment."
She stopped, "Not you as well!"
Mark's grey eyes met her's, and Elle got the feeling that the man knew that she was not a thief, but something more honest.
"No, I just have a few fighting questions for you, so I can better understand where to place you in the field."
"Anywhere but the front," Elle paused, and one of the first true statements she'd told the group came out, "I hate fighting."
A note was made a lightning speed on the paper, "I can do that, you're a mage right? Ice class?"
Elle nodded.
"You can defend yourself close up though, right? I've never seen a mage do that."
"Yes, I can my. . . trade, forced me to be good up close, and solo."
"You're a thief."
The statement held no malice.
"You could call it that."
"How well can you pick a lock?"
Elle grinned, "Faster then it takes for a guard to come."
"How fast is that?"
"Under a minute, depends on the lock."
Another fast note.
"All right, any questions for me?" asked Mark.
The Ostian girl thought for a moment, The way Mark had taken the notes, the speed. . . High level tactician's tactics. Know your allies. The way he scanned the field, commanded the few trips to rout greater numbers. He was a master.
"How long you been ordering people around for?"
Mark thought for all of two seconds, "Three years, started when I was fifteen."
"Fifteen!" Elle couldn't help the disbelief that wandered into her voice, "Sure Mark."
"I'm from Bern, my father taught me, this small group is easy after. . ." he stopped abruptly, "Bern mercenaries. They travel in huge groups. Goodnight Elle "
He shuffled his notes, keeping the still wet pages free of the other dry ones, then he was gone.
Elle smiled, "Bern doesn't have large mercenary groups my friend," she told the dark.