1629, Fire Season, Movement Week, Freezeday
Context
After Berra quit the caravan, she cooled down, putting Irillo on watch so she could have a talk with him. Session S.O-5-11.
Events
Berra wakes Irillo with a squeeze of the shoulder, and a quiet murmur, “All clear so far.” She drifts back to the watch post and waits for him to join her.
He comes into position, rapier shoved in his sash. “Good.”
Berra makes no attempt to go back to her sleeping hide. She just stays in silence for a while.
“Something on your mind?”1Insight Human: She is miserable, and hiding it well. Better than pass? Maybe even from herself.
Being asked makes her calm, as she considers the question. “You didn’t trust me. I think that’s why I’m angry.” She does not sound angry. She sounds sad.
“I’m sorry. But I know how you are with Dormal.”
That sends a little shock through her. It takes a moment for her to process, and she looks away for half of it, keeping her emotions invisible. “I never did understand why he just kept going for me.” When she does speak her voice has a brighter but brittle tone, soon lost as she goes on. “But the way to treat dishonourable people is with honour.”
That last part is either distant or determined. She is using someone else’s words.
His own mutter is barely audible. “Cauldron, chafing dish, sooty”.2Fortunately, Berra fails Listen. Then aloud he says, “Would you have cooperated had you known it would almost certainly involve theft or an ambush?”
Berra takes another moment to pause. “Why ask about cooperated? Why didn’t you try discussing? You’d made your mind up, right?”
“If I’d discussed it, and you’d disapproved, you’d have stopped me doing it, or stormed off.”
“And…” Berra cuts herself off short. Her efforts are going into not getting angry, rather than staying calm. Calm is the base state. Finally she says quietly, “I don’t know what I would have done. Being told what I let happen was why I got angry.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry I shouted atcha. I shoul’n’t have lots my temper.” Berra’s pronunciation is a guide to her feelings, no matter how she seems on the outside. She has gone back to her peasant roots. Of course, she is Berra. She stays there only a moment before the Nochet guard twang creeps in. “I can’t work for you again if you’ll do that, though. Even if you think you’re doing the right thing, it’s not right for me to do.”
“Which is why I didn’t ask you to do it. I will only do it when I really need to. But this is about civil war. And one of those is too many for my home.”
“Yeah. It’s … it’s your home. Not mine. I’ve been thinking about that. About living in Esrolia. Did you really not trust the city merchants? They might be the wrong people’s people?”
“Yes. All the small cities envy or fear Nochet. You don’t know which way they’d jump. And I’m away too much to make informed guesses.”
A beat, “Not at these stakes, anyway”
Berra wrinkles her nose, but it is thoughtful as much as a judgement on Nochet. She is trying to see different points of view. “Your Queens are barely ruling at all.” She sounds puzzled.
“Kallyr doesn’t make every decision either.”
Berra gives Irillo a long look. “I know if I step on the ground in Sartar, it’ll keep being the ground.”
“So why did we spend so much time negotiating between Kallyr and Argrath?”
“You mean, the King and the outsider?” Berra shrugs. “Which of them was lying about what they wanted?”
“And between Kallyr and Leika. And stopping Varanis making Kallyr too paranoid…”
“Leika’s… well, loud. Did you feel unsafe in her court even when she was angry? I din’. I relied on her word.” Berra must have thought this through beforehand. She could not be so fluent in reply otherwise.
“Honestly, yeah. Because any of the Orlanthi might lose it, kill me, and sing a sad regretful saga about it afterwards. “
Berra snorts. “And you’re happier here?”
“Yes. Because if one of the Queens kills me it will be because I’ve done something to deserve it, and they’ll have had a think about it first. Nobody in the system benefits from my death, so I’m safe from targeted violence, and random bandits or troll raiders are rarer down here.”
“Except if someone decides they want your stuff, or you put a foot wrong. Or someone who doesn’t like you wins out and assassinates you.” Berra shrugs. “Anyhow, it doesn’t matter so much. I don’t think I care.”
He nods, and stares into the darkness.
“Um.” It takes Berra a few minutes to break silence after that. “I said some dumb stuff about iron, too. I was angry. But what we’ve got right now? I don’t want it. I think it might belong to everyone who sticks with your caravan.” So, Irillo and perhaps the two non-combatant women.
“Honestly not that keen myself right now. When I become a priest, maybe.”
“Yeah. But… you could keep it, I guess? My temple’ll buy it, though.” Berra shrugs. “Hopefully it’ll buy mine as well. Maybe.” She is drifting into the inconsequential. Tired Berra. Maybe exhausted, in some senses.
“I could have it in storage.”
“Time’ll clean memories a bit, or at least wash out the colours.” Berra gets up and stretches. Despite everything else, she is still alert, still looking out for trouble from the outside.
“Go and sleep. Need you alert tomorrow.”
“Already ahead of you. There’s a bit of dead ground off South that you wanna keep a good eye on.” Berra is not looking at the drift of White Lady to the West of camp.
- 1Insight Human: She is miserable, and hiding it well. Better than pass? Maybe even from herself.
- 2Fortunately, Berra fails Listen.
