Chương 88: Chapter 89: Infiltration

The woman who had hailed Cormac was a Bodac dressed in the armor of Caolán Séarlait's Home Guard - light leathers and a thin rapier at her side. She weaved her way through the mill of people towards them, one welcoming hand raised.

"Play it straight," Cormac whispered.

"She thinks I'm a silk merchant from Templeton. Is that Keavy?" He raised his voice ebulliently, raising his arms in turn. He walked towards her, his gait suddenly much more exaggerated, as if he were putting on a show.

"It is you, Cormac! What in Bodac's name are you doing out here?" Keavy grinned and clasped Cormac's hand warmly.

"This is a military operation. What use has Mr. Séarlait for silks?"

"I was rather hoping you'd tell me," Cormac said, rolling his eyes.

"Last week I was on a simple trading caravan when these two fine fellows intercepted me. I'm sorry, I didn't catch your names," he said, waving Eoin and Miriam off as unimportant.

"Mr. Séarlait said I was to meet with him here, but beyond that I have no clue for what purpose he summoned me. And now I find he is too busy and I must wait on his pleasure. Quite an imposition, I must say." Keavy shrugged. She seemed older, and for the first time on a Bodac Miriam was noticing the little non-human touches. Her hair was blonde, but where on a human she would have expected lines of gray with age there were instead streaks of actual shadow.

Her eyes also seemed more sunken than they should have been, and her sclera seemed slightly red-tinted.

"It's all very hush-hush, I'm afraid. All we know is that we're going in tomorrow."

"Going in?" Cormac asked.

"You're going further into the First Ring? Ghastly." Keavy shook her head.

"Nah, thank the Realms Above. Teilgcheárta." Cormac's jaw dropped.

"Well! That is certainly new to me. Perhaps Mr. Séarlait needs silks and tapestries for a throne room! But… not to belittle the prowess of your team, Keavy, but my understanding was that Teilgcheárta was buttoned up tighter than a Shirren Lady's corsets!" Keavy grinned.

"Don't ever underestimate Caolán Séarlait. He's got some plan, but I never pay attention to that stuff. Point me the direction to go, and I go. The why bores me. At any rate I have to get to muster soon. It was good seeing you! We're playing sixes and sevens tonight if you want to swing by! We're in the south field. Blue tents." Cormac clutched his heart.

"Can my wallet take it? Can my pride?" He waved Keavy farewell and hurried back to Eoin and Miriam.

"She seemed nice," Miriam teased.

"Something going on there?"

"No. Eoin, can you disguise me as well?" Eoin seemed to catch the odd tone in Cormac's voice.

"I can, though it will be a strain doing all three of us. Why?"

"Keavy was my in to see Caolán Séarlait the day I stole the Drop of Intent from him," Cormac said, his voice calm but intense.

"He sent Ultán after me for that. There is no chance Keavy didn't get some blowback from it - or at least wasn't made aware that I was a wanted criminal. She's gone to get backup and she is about to hunt me down. And as good as your illusions are, they have trackers that can get through them."

"Like Ultán's Pathfinder class?" Miriam said, shuddering.

"Probably not FIfth like he was, but in this small space it won't matter," Cormac said, his features rippling as his features changed under Eoin's technique.

"We have to move fast." They walked quickly towards the tents that seemed to represent Central Command, but traffic was heavy. Armored warriors and white-uniformed functionaries bustled through in a near-constant buzz of activity. With Cormac's luck they were able to make their way through the press and to the outside of a large red tent near the center of the most frenzied hub of activity.

"This is likely where we'll find maps," Cormac said, peering at the golden threads only he could see.

"Pretty good chance, anyway." This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"Your Luck has certainly gotten stronger!" Eoin said appreciatively.

"You can thank Cian for that."

"I wish I could have met him!" Cormac shrugged.

"Maybe you still will. I've got him in my backpack." The tent was full of people - adjutants, scholars, assistants. There seemed to be no soldiers here - the military leadership were huddled in a slightly smaller blue tent on the other side of the camp.

"You two stay here," Cormac said.

"I'll be in and out before anyone notices me."

"Wait," Eoin said.

"I can make this easier." Cormac slowly faded from view as Eoin's Invisible Mist enveloped him.

"Thanks," Cormac said out of the air. Miriam and Eoin kept walking through the traffic so as not to seem suspicious, making a circuit around the Central Command tents. There were tents that housed logistics officers, armorers, weapon smithies, stablemasters… despite the chaos of the camp in general, on closer inspection it was a marvel of efficiency. This was a business-driven military operation running like a machine. She found herself caught short by her own reflection in a brightly polished shield.

She looked at her face, her skin, her hair… all seemingly human again. She was looking at the image of the same woman who had sailed into Marybel all those years ago.

"Miriam?" Eoin's voice asked from inside a stranger's face.

"Are you all right?"

"It's fine," she said, tearing her eyes away.

"Just… thought I saw someone I used to know." Eoin nodded.

"I sometimes forget how fast this has all been for you. You only arrived here in the Tír, what? Three months ago?"

"Seems like lifetimes," Miriam said.

"After so little time, and already the woman I see in that reflection seems like a stranger." She smiled.

"I think I've gotten used to having horns."

"This seems like a poor time to ask, but we're literally just walking in circles, so… have you decided on whether to accept my offer?" Miriam glared at him.

"You mean your offer to train me up before you kill me?" Eoin shrugged.

"It is what it is." She shook her head.

"Let's get out of Teilgcheárta with everyone alive first before I sign up for lessons on maybe dying slower." Eoin huffed in frustration.

"Fine. I'll just give you this tidbit for free then. You're severely hampering yourself in the Second Ring by not having a Life Adept class. I can see your fórsa makeup is off balance. You won't see any negative effects right away, but you're likely to feel it the longer you go. Whether I help you or not, you should rectify this."

"I'm aware," Miriam snapped.

"I did have a good teacher."

"Cian again!" Eoin said, throwing up his hands.

"What does this kid have that I don't?"

"He's older, funnier, kinder and is himself an entire island capable of thought and reasoning," Miriam said.

"But what he really has that you don't is my trust."

"Ouch!" Eoin rubbed his jaw as if she had punched him.

"But I can't blame you."

"Are we fighting?" The voice of Cormac piped up out of nowhere.

"I thought we were trying to be sneaky."

"We are. Being sneaky," Miriam said.

"DId you get what we needed?"

"I think so," he said.

"At least my… luck… did…"

"Cormac?" Eoin asked.

"Guys… we need to go."

"What?" Miriam asked.

"Why?" Cormac - or the disguised version of him - reappeared suddenly.

"There are suddenly more black threads around us than I have ever seen in my life." Suddenly, the traffic around them all came to a stop. Soldiers and logistic men and scribes all stopped their movement and parted out of the way. Walking towards them, parting the crowd with authority Miriam couldn't help but sense radiating off of them, were three people. The first she knew - Keavy, the Bodac guardswoman from earlier.

The second was what looked like what would have been a teenager in human years, a sullen boy with long black hair draping down over his face, dressed in casual clothes - not bearing the Séarlait crest. The third was a short pixie, standing a full six inches shorter than Róise was, a fully-grown set of wings folded down behind him. Though he wore a thin mustache and his hair had a little peppered gray in it, the resemblance was unmistakable. The pixie stepped forward.

"Welcome to my camp. You might as well drop the illusion, Eoin. I remember you. And of course, this is Cormac Fiadh - it looks like you used the Drop you stole from me after all. A Fourth in such a short time. You," he said to Miriam as her facade melted and her true dryad form emerged.

"You I don't know. But I am interested to learn more." Eoin looked shocked, and his three blue lenses snapped down in front of his left eye.

"Ah. Very impressive, sir. How did you do this?" The pixie shrugged.

"I'm assuming you mean how am I a Fifth? Hard work and perseverance, Mr. Daithi. Running the most successful company in the quadrant paints a target on my back. I would have been foolish not to protect myself accordingly."

"Yes, that… but your Adept class is also quite unusual!" Eoin said. The pixie's eyes narrowed.

"Not a word about that. I didn't know your analysis skill was so refined. I intend for the number of people who know about that to remain low and entirely in my control. I can enforce that with a blade if necessary."

"I assure you, sir, you can rely on my discretion," Eoin said.

"You're him, aren't you?" Miriam said, standing up a little straighter under the pixie's glare.

"The leader of this… farce." The pixie raised an eyebrow.

"Farce? I'm not the one who was hiding under illusions. My name is Caolán Séarlait, as you must have known. And I think it goes without saying, but you're all under arrest."