core. She had a terrible premonition that Fei was right. The world hadn’t seen an army in hundreds of years and for the exact reason that Conli had just said. So if an army did come against them, they wouldn’t begin to know how to fight them off or have a united enough force to do it with. “How would Saoleord help?”
“My people have not forgotten warfare or tactics,” Fei responded quietly. “There are many master strategists that live there. If we had just one, I think we would be better off and able to face whatever comes our direction.”
“You realize that everything you’re saying is nothing more than hypothesis and conjecture,” Conli inserted uneasily. The tightness around his eyes suggested that even he was half-convinced. “We don’t know that Orin really can manage to pull an army together or that they’ll come to Robarge to attack.”
“I hope I’m wrong.” Fei splayed his hands in an open shrug. “But I’d rather be prepared for the worst.”
Siobhan heartily agreed with this sentiment. “And if nothing else, we get to go into a city that very few have ventured into, and it has the added benefit of escaping with Rune.”
Conli grimaced agreement. “That alone is a very good reason to go. Alright, when should we leave?”
“Three days from now?” Siobhan offered, head cocked slightly as she thought through logistics and timelines. “Assuming Rune passes his test, it’ll give him some good experience to take us all to Orin.”
“There’s no path to my home city,” Fei added.
She waved this away. “Rune and Grae love building paths, they’ll be delighted to make one. Granted, that means we’ll be digging about in the dirt for stones for two days or so.”
They all sighed in resignation.
Shaking it off, Siobhan said, “Alright, Fei, your suggestion is a good one. I do want to try talking to Darrens one more time before we commit to this idea. We’ll discuss it over dinner tonight, see if there’s anything the others want to add in, but I’m all for going.”
Relieved, Fei simply nodded.
“In the meantime,” Conli added with a significant look toward the upstairs, “let’s just hope that Rune passes.”
Siobhan prudently took Fei with her when she went to meet Darrens. After all, if she brought up the possibility of going to Saoleord for help, he’d ask why, and she only knew as much as Fei had told her. Which really didn’t amount to much. It was better to have him handy for any in-depth questions.
It had taken wheedling and a bribe with Darrens secretary to get an appointment this short notice, and as it was, they met very late in the evening. Most people were either finishing dinner or getting ready to retire, but the guildmaster’s home was fully lit and there were plenty of people still milling about the compound. Then again, Siobhan was convinced that this was the one place in the city that never slept.
They went directly to Darrens’ study, where they found the man dressed more informally than usual, in nothing but trousers and short sleeves, his feet propped up on his desk. He looked tired even at first glance, and Siobhan’s heart sank. A tired man was not known to possess much patience.
He looked up at the tentative knock on the open door, then waved them in and to the chairs arrayed in front of his desk. “Siobhan, Fei, come in. I hope you’re coming to talk to me about something different this time.”
She concealed a wince. “I’m sorry. I’m not.”
Darrens blew out an aggravated breath.
“Hear us out,” she pleaded, both hands raised up in a staying motion. “You know that Fei is from Saoleord?”
“Yes, and?”
Fei smoothly picked up the thread of the conversation. “You know that my people are the only ones that retain records from before the governments fell?”
His eyes flew to Fei’s face, his wandering attention now firmly fixed. In deliberate motions, he took his feet off the desk and leaned forward, hands braced against the desk. “I did not. How much do your people know?”
“It is why they fled so high up in the mountains,” Fei explained simply. “They wanted to remove themselves far from the conflicts of the world to preserve all of the history and knowledge they could. The legend says that when they fled, they were only allowed to bring as much in the way of personal things and tools as they could carry on their backs. The wagons and horses were for scrolls, books, and records.”