Well, that settled it. Mishka had her good points, but she was most definitely not a morning person.
She'd sat there in stony faced silence ever since they'd left sight of the city gates, hunched over, flatly refusing to either put on her coat or wear his. It was raining, for heaven's sake, and still she insisted on being stubborn and sitting directly under a particularly large, cold drip. She might have been grinding her teeth.
In fairness, she hadn't had much sleep!
He, on the other hand, was having a pretty good day. Everything had fit in the wonder tent - it seemed to have mysteriously shrunk, for reasons he hadn't yet figured out, but everything had fit. Maddox had actually been in a pleasant mood when he'd slipped out to the stables to get her harnessed up. The fire-bucket had still been smouldering away, enough to make his first cup of tea for the morning.
He was still working on that tea, balancing it delicately between his knees while he figured out how to arrange the reins.
"Cheer up, sad sack. You're on an adventure."
Michael gave Sasha a dark glare, her hat pulled down firmly over her head. Her babies were along as well, bounding along the sides of the cart, thrilled to get to go on another adventure. They loved any chance they got to run around like mad things outside the city.
She had gotten hardly in sleep, packing and dealing with the while Murray thing. She had to make sure everyone she was leaving in charge knew what was going on.
But Sasha turned out to be one of those chipper morning people and Michael just gripped her tea mug tighter and refused to answer him.
"Drink your tea, and then go have a quick catnap. There's a bed at the back of the tent. Maybe that will help."
He hadn't actually thought about sleeping arrangements yet. There was only one bed...and with the way the tent seemed to have shrunk - why was that, seriously? - he wasn't even all that sure he could still use it. And it was supposedly HIS bed!
"Just what are you implying?" Michael's voice dripped ice and she straightened, her glare darkening even farther, "I'm not some delicate flower about to wilt."
"Oh, I know you're not. If you were a delicate little flower, you wouldn't have insisted I cart you around...but, my sweet, you are scowling like someone just handed you a shit sandwich. And I know exactly how much sleep you haven't had."
He smiled as sweetly as he could, clicking his tongue absentmindedly at Maddox.
Mishka would hate his guts forever in five...four...three...two...
"You'll be much nicer company after."
Michael gave Sasha a long, flat look. Then with one smooth, fluid motions Michael lashed out, her kick catching Sasha right in the back and sent him sprawling into the mud.
"Okay then. You can drive. I'll stay down here and walk for a bit...at least I'm sort of confident your dogs won't kick me!"
"They might eat you." Michael shifted forward and took the reins, content to leave Sasha to walk. Bastard talked too much.
"But then what would you do when you made it to the tundra? They'll trust you a lot more if you have me...and no, taking my dead, lightly decomposed corpse to be stuffed is not an option."
"You know, I feel that would probably serve me well. If you use that charm back home as much as you do in Connlaoth, I bet there are plenty of people that would relish seeing your dead, lightly decomposed corpse."
"Things are different up there, and besides...you liked me fine last night."
At the look on her face, he burst out laughing.
"I like you much less now. I have to say, I would feel a certain amount joy if someone brought me your corpse." The different part Michael just assumed meant they were all...barbarians or some such.
"All right, all right. I'm sorry. I just thought you might want to catch up on the sleep you didn't get."
This could be a long trip if she legitimately didn't like him. With her, who could tell?
"I'm aware of how much sleep I had. And we'll get along a lot better if you stop treating me like I don't understand my own limits." Michael took another drink of the tea, glad for the warmth. She was grumpy and she was not going to listen to Sasha patronize her to Hyoite and back.
Sasha shrugged.
"As you wish."
She would have her way, if that was how she wanted it. It's not as though he wasn't content enough walking anyway. Might even do him some good to stretch his legs, and while they were still so near to civilisation the roads were still fairly good; no mud to ooze between his toes, no ice to cut his feet.
"I do have one question though...whatever it is you're after, you're not going to get it as Sir Michael Weiss, Mordecai Grand Master and Grand Poobah of All. We're cautious around your lot, no offence meant. What convenient lie would you like to use?"
Michael's lips quirked into a small smile, "Grand poobah. I like that, though I wouldn't say of all. I'm not the Grand Duke after all. But, no. I was hoping you had some suggestions for what would best work. I need to find where these mages are hiding and I need to blend in."
"Erm. Define 'mages'. and define 'hiding'?"
"Mages, magic users. And they are sending magic against the Grand Duke. We need to find them and eliminate them. Is that clear enough?
Um. Well.
This could be an interesting mission she'd dragged him on.
The simple fact was...mages were useful. As good as any armed man, sometimes. Better even, in certain places - he had to say, he'd rather have one mage on hand to drive off an angry bear than one guy with a spear, or even one of those Connlaoth flintlocks. Or for a child, a sick one or a lost one, something to keep them safe and lead them out of the ice. Or on a whaling boat, a charm to keep the little skiffs from flipping over and killing half a dozen people in less than a minute.
Whatever worked was good when it meant you were safe and warm and fed. Simple as that.
A skillset like that wasn't something to overlook, anyway. It was just plain impractical, having it fall into your lap and then not using it...or at least, that was how the sionadyaki he'd known usually saw it. They might not be so keen to give up a magic user who was otherwise pulling their weight, all for the sake of a country and a man they owed nothing to.
Those who still DID feel a tie to Connlaoth were usually the exiles, the newcomers...and who would begrudge them a bit of anger for a place that had never wanted them in it?
Explaining that to Mishka could be hard though! And she was probably observant enough to know when something wasn't being said...well, shit.
"What?" Michael gave Sasha a withering look, not impressed with his silence, "Let me guess? You are a sympathizer then?" He was probably one of the ones who had never seen a mage lose it, the violence and destruction they could cause. Or seen the shattered effects of magic use on the land, "Will this be a problem?"
"Did I say anything to suggest I had a problem?"
Sasha sighed. This was going to be a wildly unpleasant conversation. And all the Connlaothians to have it with, he had to choose a Mordecai.
"If you really want to know...yeah, it might be. Maybe. I know you don't like or trust magic, and fair enough - it's dangerous in untrained hands, same as any other tool. I wouldn't give a kiddie a fishing spear either, or one of the flintlocks we buy from you! I'm just going to say that...up here, sometimes it's different. Sometimes a mage keeps bears and wolves away. Sometimes they put a charm on fishing boats, so everyone comes back. Sometimes they find a kid who's gotten muddled in bad weather, who's scared and alone and freezing to death less than a mile from home."
He reached into the collar of his shirt, pulling out the yellowed bone manaia charm he wore. It was the same as the one he'd sold to her earlier - bird's head, man's body, fish tail. He turned it over in his hand, again and again.
"I told you I don't sell magical ones of these. I told the truth. I don't sell them. Yours is just a trinket...but this one, this one I'm wearing is not. I was one of the lost kids in the snow. I was found, by a mage who'd run north from Connlaoth, because I wore this."
Michael hissed, drawing back and made the holy sign of Ansgar, "Filth! Stupid fool! I know magic can help people, you think I am stupid? But I have seen the destruction it causes. Not just the violence mages use if for. It's twisted! Unnatural!"
Pulling back on the reins, Michael pulled the cart to a halt, "You might have been found in the snow, but that magic left its taint on the world. Others will die because the magic released into the world."
"Believe what you want, love. If it helps you sleep at night, I won't take that from you."
No wonder she'd risen so far up the ranks. She was too damn stubborn to do anything else!
"I don't know which of us will be right in the end. Maybe neither of us...but I can promise that if you go in all gung-ho like you are now, they'll choose their mage - known and trusted - over the threat of a hell they don't believe in. Even the Connlaoth exiles who do believe what you do...they came north because they're mages, already been told from birth they're damned to go there. Why in the name of all that is holy would they do anything to help you?"
He shrugged.
"If you honestly believe there's a threat to your home, then fair enough. I'll take you, and you can search, and good luck to you. I'd protect my home just the same. I'm just letting you know you'll get nowhere if you're not pretty fucking careful about it. Speak softly, before you bring out the big stick."
Michael closed her eyes, taking a deep breath and letting it out in a low hiss. She was very much regretting ever having taken Sasha into her bed. He was a poison, like so many others, tainted by magic and only saw the good things. Ignored the damage and danger that magic use caused.
"I am not stupid. I know I can't go in there and drag mages screaming from their beds and for all what you seem to think, I don't want to. But I need to find those that are bringing harm to my people and if you wont help me with that, I will find another guide."
"In a way, I agree with you - if someone's using magic to hurt your people, your home...that's got to stop. If someone were running around with a sword, cutting up your people, I'd say the same."
Her comments stung more than he'd want to admit. He wasn't completely unaware of magic having some darker uses. The thought that he'd be okay with that...no. Never.
"I'll help you. I've meant all along to help you, as far as my conscience will let me."
Michael just gave a curt nod, rubbing her arm and feeling a little gross. She didn't like dealing with people like this, the ones who were blinded to the deadly force magic could be. "A man with a sword I could handle without help."
She gave Sasha a short nod. She would take that, but if he got in her way or helped the mages, she would cut him down first. Michael just hoped it wouldn't come to that.
"I know the difference between right and wrong, love. No fear there. For now, can we leave it and try and come up with a story for you?"
An idea was forming. As a Mordecai, openly, she wouldn't get anywhere. As a mage, on the other hand...
Would she even accept the idea? Pretending to be what she most hated, wearing their clothes (with that ugly patch they had to have marking them out), using the same gestures and phrases that a real mage would use for some tiny, unobtrusive spell? Effectively doing magic, without the magic?
She'd probably hate it. And him. And they'd only just stopped fighting.
Shit.
"Well, I don't know. Merchant?" She glanced behind her at Sasha's wagon, "An apprentice or something?" She hadn't had much time to plan this adventure, hated being so unprepared, "Well, I'm a little old to pull that one off. What else comes up here?"
"At this time of year, with things getting colder instead of warmer? And you might have noticed your lot don't like crossing the northern mountains much..."
Oh, she might not take this well. He might have hesitated before speaking again. Maybe. A little bit.
"Exiles."
"No." Michael shook her head, "Not unless we can't think of something else." She would if she had too, but only as a last resort. "How about you marry me instead."
His mind had been beetling along happily before now, keeping pace with the rhythm his feet set without him needing to consciously think about it, or even really be aware of it...but when she said that, the whole thing ground to a halt as effectively as smashing into a wall. He wouldn't have been surprised to see the train of thought come shooting out of his head with leftover momentum and rattle around in the nearly empty mug he was drinking from.
As it was, he nearly choked.
Hot! Ack, hot tea up his nose! Burnies burnies ow fuck ow...
"Ack!" Coughing and spluttering, he wiped his eyes and tried not to fall over, catching his balance with a strange, completely graceless shuffling hop-skip. "Marry you?! It might work, but...I never thought I'd hear you suggest it!"
He paused.
"Do you mean...your kind of marriage, or my kind of marriage?"
Michael lifted one pale eyebrow at Sasha's antics, amused and not unpleased he was suffering, "I'm unsure what the difference is."
"If you mean my kind of marriage, the good news is you have has many pretty young things as you like. The bit that you might not like is where every woman I know will be chasing after you...or you might be into that kind of thing?"
Sasha grinned. He still had a healthy slug of tea up each nostril, but that was a very, very interesting image...
Michael stiffened, unsure if Sasha knew. But there was no way he could, she was careful. And if someone of his level heard rumors, she would have already been moved against by those that wanted her job.
She instead lifted an eyebrow at him, still nursing her tea, "Woman chasing me? Why?"
"That's a trick question, right? Come on. You're sex on legs."
Okay, so maybe not in the classical sense - too harsh to fit into the soft expanses of Connlaothian beauty, and the scar over one eye didn't exactly soften her - but still. She had to know she was at least intriguing. They'd been sniping at each other pretty well continuously since dawn, and he was still fascinated. It'd be worth it just to know where she might lead him next.
What was there to say? The boldness was a drawcard. The sharp tongue wasn't, for sure, but it went with a sharp mind and that definitely was.
"I went for you, didn't I?"
"And you're a male. Which again, leads me to ask, why would woman be going after me?" Michael didn't get where she was by showing her hand too soon. And she wasn't fishing for compliments, she was aware of her own charms and didn't need outside validation.
"Same reason, you daftie. Sex."
So she was slow on the uptake for once. The little parade of naked women in his head was still AWESOME.
"Woman can't have sex with each other. They don't have the right parts." Michael snorted, finishing off her tea.
Sasha burst out laughing.
"They have hands. They have mouths. You of all people should know that's plenty of parts, thanks. The first thing you said to me was about my hands!"
Okay, time to be serious. It'd be sad to let the Naked Parade go, but sitting there with a big dopey smile on his face probably wasn't wise. She'd notice, and then she'd notice more and then she might feed his balls to the dogs.
"What two women do or two men do is different to what a man and a woman would do. It looks different, it sounds different, it often feels different...but because it is different, for us there's no taboo even if someone is already married. You can say no, but you might well be asked."
Michael blinked at Sasha, not quite believing her ears. While she was more than aware of what it was like between two woman, to have is spoken of so casually was startling to say the least. And the fact it would be a little expected of her was...thrilling.
"Ah. Well, I'm sure I can handle that just fine. It seems you are more of a heathen than I realized."
She sounded...pleased. Quietly, for sure, and she may not even have meant to let even that much show, but he'd taken a fair few Connlaothians up north before - exiles mostly, though he'd never say it! - and they'd never taken the news quite like that. Mostly they'd been disgusted, or at best disbelieving.
This was new.
He stroked his chin thoughtfully.
"Can I ask you something? Privately, never to be mentioned to anyone else?"
She would kill him in five...four...three...
"I think you have a secret. About other women. Am I right?"
The metal cup and the rest of her tea flew at Sasha's head and Michael was half standing in the cart, pissed, "What the fuck did you just say?!"
Eep. She was steaming.
Sasha ducked hurriedly. The mug sailed over his head and landed with a clatter.
This wasn't exactly a throwaway comment - he'd been wondering since he met her, maybe even before in a more general sense. It was, after all, not much of a secret what soldiers got up to with other men. He'd heard the rumours often enough, and they were strangely consistent. He'd even heard the real deal, once or twice, when he stumbled on a military camp.
Maybe it wasn't openly discussed, but the whole thing seemed tolerated to an extent, and tacitly understood. Fear of looking weak in front of their beloved made Connlaoth's soldiers stronger.
She was a soldier just as much. It was written all over her, every move she made broadcast the fact that soldiering and battle were burned into her soul like the makers mark on the blade of a sword.
He might have to choose his words carefully here!
"If I'm wrong, tell me so and I'll never mention it again...but you're too practical never to have tried it, or at least considered it. Someone as attuned to their own wants and needs as you are, you know as well as I do that the average man can't find his way around a woman without a map and a sheet of instructions telling him what to do when he gets there. You've wondered, if nothing else, why the rules are different for you as a woman than they are for any other soldier. Men do this together, even in Connlaoth. How many years have you been in uniform, and never had it come up even once for a woman under your command, or for you, or for anyone?"
He wasn't going to touch her. Not unless she wanted it. But he WAS going to find a way to make her look at him properly when she answered.
"Tell me I'm wrong."
"You are very wrong! That is unnatural and against Ansgar and I have nothing to do with that." Sasha was right on the money, his wording voicing her own thoughts perfectly, but she wasn't admitting to anything. Not yet and not to him.
"All right then. We'll leave it alone."
He strongly suspected she was lying. Doubtless she was a good liar when she had a moment to compose herself, but right now she seemed just a little too flustered. A little too quick, too vehement in denial. Even the really religious ones didn't usually throw things when he told them how things went up here.
Still, if she didn't want to say...it was her business. He'd only been testing a hunch.
"Your lad Ansgar doesn't seem to like the cold much, never really comes up here!"
Michael gave a low hiss under her breath, "Sasha. You are not helping. If you don't want me to come beat you to death with something unpleasant, I suggest not reminding me I am going into a land of magic using heathens."
"It'd help enormously if you at least didn't call me a heathen, but...okay. Peace?"
As much fun as he was having turning her brain inside out, it might perhaps be time to give it a rest. Getting kicked out of his own tent wasn't an outcome he wanted very much. Sunset might come late in summer, but it was still really fucking cold at night!
Come to think of it, they still hadn't resolved sleeping arrangements. Oh, that would be a world of fun with the mood she was in...
"I think I know something that might make you feel better. We should get to it by tomorrow."
"You are a heathen. You've admitted it." Michael huddled closer into her warm fur lined jacket, not enjoying the biting wind. The trip was already turning out to be highly unpleasant and she was getting annoyed with Sasha. Michael didn't enjoying leaving her comfort zone much, "Where are we going?"
Sasha smiled.
This, she would like. It was firmly in the luxury camp, and he knew exactly where she stood when it came to life's small luxuries. And there would even be people there - someone was ALWAYS there - so she could get on with her mission if she really wanted to.
"Tell me...have you ever been in a hotpool?"
"A hotpool? No, I can't say that I have." She was aware of what one was, but she had never been to one personally. "Is that where we're going?"
"If you like. There are always people there, which I figure suits you down to the ground....and it feels pretty amazing too. Best hot bath you'll ever have."
"Yes, that sounds useful." If Michael had any idea of what was actually waiting for her, she would have wanted to travel much faster. As it was, she just gave an absent shrug, "I suppose I should let you do most of the asking until I get a better understanding of how things work here."
"Nah, just make sure you're polite. They'll respect you as a fellow traveller and as someone's wife. They'll share what they have. It's traditional to offer something when you meet someone on the road, whatever you can spare; they'll treat you well enough if you do that."
Sasha wasn't entirely sure she could do it, but...Mishka was intelligent. She'd figure it out quickly enough. It might be a steep learning curve, but she would get there.
"The main thing is that they don't know who you are and you don't want them to know. No special treatment because you're the Grand High Poobah of the Whatever. No perks."
He turned aside and looked at the sky briefly, smiling as one of her vast dogs wandered off to sniff at an interesting tuft of wet grass. Still light. It would be light for a few more hours yet - it would be nearly midnight before they saw any proper sunset. Idly, he wondered if she knew that.
"We should stop for the night and set up camp. If we want to make good time tomorrow, Maddox
needs a rest."
A thought struck him. "Um...how do you want to do sleeping arrangements? You can have the bed, if you want it?"
Michael glanced back behind her at the wagon, "I have no idea what we can offer. What is there to spare?" She glowered a little as Sasha kept talking, "Yes darling. I'm aware I can't announce my position."
She hated not knowing, of being out of her element and her control and Sasha was not helping in a lot of ways, "I would love the bed, thank you." She gave him a bright smile and made no offer to share it with him.
There was the sound of deep barking as her hounds discovered a group of birds who all took to the sky, much to the dogs delight as they ran around, barking and trying to catch the small creatures.
Whee, time skip!
-----------------------------------
Oooooargh. His back had not liked last night. He'd been able to bribe the dogs into curling up nearby - they still weren't entirely sure of him, but they were happy enough to occupy the space exactly halfway between the sheltered patch of ground where he'd slept and the bunk inside the cart where Michael had been - and there were ways to set up a windbreak, but still.
Oooargh. He was turning into an old man.
Fortunately, they were nearly at the springs. He could smell the warm waft of them already, and the landscape had long since changed; it was drier now, more rocks, almost a moonscape if not for the stumpy trees that grew in volcanic soil and nowhere else.
The thought of soaking for a while was a beautiful one.
He could hear voices. Someone was always here.
"Shall we?"
Sasha still hadn't quite made it back into her good graces. He was a little too...heathen for her at the moment. Michael still couldn't believe she had slept with him once already. She didn't hate mages and she did understand the draw of their abilities. But that was lead the world to ruin.
But the prospect of a hot bath appealed to her. She cocked her head, one hand absently stroking a soft dog head, "What's that smell? Is that the baths?"
"It is. Are you up for a good bath?"
Hot pools definitely had a smell. It wasn't an unpleasant smell - hot and earthy, dense with steam that hadn't yet escaped - but it was definitely there, and it could sometimes take a little while for newcomers to decide whether or not they liked it.
"Shall we?"
He could hear voices. They'd see in a minute what sort of people might go with them.
"Lead the way." Michael's nose wrinkled at the smell, but she was getting used to it. Though she wasn't really prepared for it. There were several people there, all totally naked and soaking in the hot springs. Michael always prided herself on her rather risque nature, but this had her face a bright red and trying to not stare at the not all that appealing naked bodies around her.
She shot Sasha a glare, "You didn't tell me everyone got naked together."
"Yes? That's sort of what you do in a bath, isn't it?"
He shrugged.
"Don't worry. It's not a sexual thing. It's not even a private thing. No one knows you, so they won't perv on you unless you approach them. I'm probably related to half of these people, and I promise no one would even look twice. It'd be like staring at someone while they ate."
Hmmm. She still looked doubtful. He lowered his voice, pulled her into a hug against his chest; if they were going to play at being married, it wouldn't hurt to give the audience something to believe in. Besides, he could speak much more softly with her so close. If she didn't like it, she'd just have to cope. She could complain later, in private.
"If it makes you feel better...look again. You don't have to strip off."
Maybe she hadn't noticed this bit, but not everyone was entirely naked. Some people had strips of cloth artfully placed, with bundles of herbs tied up in them to steep and help sore muscles; the back, the thighs, old injuries that hadn't quite healed, anywhere that hurt. There were women there - most were old, but there were a few young ones - with their babies splashing happily in shallow corners; a lot of them had draped the same herbs and wet cloth over their breasts.
Granted, it wasn't much. There were a lot more people who WERE stark naked than there were people who weren't. But still, it might help her.
"It's nothing, Mishka. Just...please love, trust me on this one. This is something you will have to do if you want to find your rogue mages. This is where the people go. Unless you want to wait for winter, this is what we do."
Michael's eyes darted around, her posture stiff and she gave a small nod. She took a deep breath, steadying herself, though her face was still a vivid red. This was well out of her comfort zone, most of this trip was out of her comfort zone.
"I'm not wearing those stupid plants. I can strip." Bold words she wasn't sure she could back up, but she was relying on raw balls to get her through this and she never back down from a challenge. Before pulling away, she whispered to Sasha, "I don't think I will...be very good at talking. Please..." she couldn't bring herself to say help, not while already feeling so shaken, "assist me."
Wow. Sure, that first night he may have teased her about asking nicely for what she wanted, but it was disconcerting as hell to hear her actually do it! This must truly be important if she'd go that far!
"Whatever you need, love. This is new for you, and I know I find things a wee bit awkward when I'm in your country sometimes too. You're going better than I thought you might. Better than most do."
If there was a quiet spot where she could just hang out and steam for a little while, that might help to settle things. She could focus then. He tried to spot such a corner while stripping off, but the thing about wearing lots of layers was that occasionally they got in the way...
...oh. Fuck. His grandmother was here.
Michael nodded, wishing she could bite her own tongue out. But she needed to talk to these people and this was just too much all at once. Her face was a vivid red, her expression angry and stubborn as she started to strip out of the layers of heavy clothes she had been bundled in.
She had gotten to the bottom layer when she noticed an older woman approaching them, smiling and waving at Sasha. Michael glanced over at the man, one eye brow raised, "Someone you know?"
"...Yep. My grandmama. Welcome to the family, wifey."
"...really?" Michael perked up a little, hands still on the laces of her shirt, delaying having to fully strip.
The woman approached, hugging Sasha tightly, "My little rabbit! You are back! And who is this?"
"Hello baba!"
His grandmother's face was a bit like looking at a map. One of those topographical ones, with millions of lines to show the altitude. When she smiled, sometimes her eyes disappeared in a mess of crinkles.
She's called him little rabbit for as long as he can remember. Since his first time in a hotpool - "skinning the rabbit" was what she called it when she helped him undo all the knots and buckles of his clothes, raised his arms to get the shirt over his head.
"Actually, I...er, I got married."
"You got married? Why didn't you tell us? Why didn't you invite us?!"
Michael gave the woman a bright smile, "He just demanded a quick wedding. Said he couldn't live without me. Didn't you darling?"
Oh. Okay. She wanted to play this game...he could do that.
The good thing about doing this performance with her was that she was nice and small. Easy to bundle up in his arms until her feet didn't touch the ground. He kissed her. Extravagantly, because sometimes that was fun too.
"Can you really blame me, love?"
Michael almost didn't manage to repress the urge to kick Sasha in some delicate places. She gave him a sharp smile, dangerous and promising, "Oh no. But you didn't tell me your grandmother was so close."
She shoved down her distaste for the casual nudity and hugged the older woman, letting her cheeks get pinched.
The old woman beamed, looking Michael up and down, "You are a thin one! Make sure my little rabbit keeps you warm!"
Sasha nearly choked he was laughing so hard...but it didn't last long. His grandmother cocked an eyebrow at him, giving him a good hard prod in the chest with one bony finger.
"What's so funny child? A man has duties to his wife you know, and we get awfully bitchy when we're cold. Step up and keep her warm and happy or get out. Your mother will say the same when you tell her...though she might ask for a grandbaby or two first."
Michael choked. It wasn't really that she was offended or hadn't heard worse, but she hadn't been expecting it. She tried to cover it by laughing, shaking her head, "I doubt he'll be doing much of that. He's been sleeping outside the last few nights. Your grandson always seems to know how to say the wrong thing."
She was not touching that baby thing.
"Sorry baba, but I'm going to have to disappoint her. I'd be a wretched father, and she has lots of grandbabies already..."
"Oh yes, she has little fat grandbabies all over Connlaoth thanks to you." His grandmother laughed. There was a knowing little gleam in her eye, she was barely suppressing the urge to wink at Michael and she seemed to take a great deal of pleasure in listening to him splutter a string of half-hearted excuses.
"Um...um..."
"Don't look at me like that, my rabbit, I know what you get up to down there. I know."
"He's not very subtle about it. He can't seem to keep out from one woman's furs or another." Michael grinned, often having the same problem herself. It was surreal talking about this with someone's family though. It all felt like some strange dream.
Sasha knew that somewhere under the beard, he was blushing. Bright, flaming red.
He wasn't exactly some delicate little shrinking violet or anything, but they were laughing at him. A lot. A lot. Two on one, and that just wasn't any kind of fair!
He had to get Mishka back to work, or else it might never stop.
"Baba...have you heard anything about mages gathering? We heard rumours before we left Connlaoth that someone was magic-bombing the Grand Duke, and you know what they're like down there. Mishka's got magic in her family, and if they lash out because of the rumours...well, she's a little worried about what might happen to some of her people. Aren't you, love?"
Michael was loving Sasha's vivid blush, but her fun was ruined when Sasha brought up the mages. She needed to focus, pay attention to what was going on in this place.
The old woman paused, her wrinkled face thoughtful, "I don't know about any plots, but there have been talks of mages gathering."
Yeah, so he was a terrible, no good, very bad grandson. He really did feel bad about lying to Baba.
Still, he'd promised he would help Michael, and if there really WAS something going on then he'd bet everything he owned that the great and the good of Connlaoth who made all the important decisions would settle on some kind of heavily armed solution to deal with it. That seemed to be a flavour of problem-solving they liked down there. Particularly when it came to magic.
...If Connlaoth brought the weapons out, no one would come out of this a winner.
Sasha peered sideways at Michael from under thoughtfully lowered brows, trying to read her expression. It was fucking hard trying to gauge her responses to this.
What exactly had that poor bastard Murray Carwardine - not that he liked the man very much, not really, but there were some things no one deserved - said when she was with him?
What could he have possibly said to send her all the way up here like a dog after a hare?
"Oh?" Michael managed to keep her expression bland and voice steady. She wanted to grab the old woman and shake the information out of her, but that wouldn't help anyone, "And...what is it they are gathering for?"
The old woman just shrugged, "Magic things I imagine."
"D'you know where, Baba?"
She shugged. There were tremors in outlying regions. "Ask your mother. She's over there somewhere. She or your father will know better than I do, I forget what was said when we heard..."