No One's Chosen Read Online Free PDF Page A

of
naked elf flesh that laid out before her. Fat and thin, male and
female, all younger than her by half at least. It was a smorgasbord
and she had had her fill the night before. Now the problem of how
to escape without inciting anything particularly carnal was upon
her. As much fun as staying might be and as much as she was
prepared to protest the work, it was a providence that must be
kept.
    With some effort, Rianaire emerged from the room,
pulling on a caraco over her frumpled dress. She mussed her
shoulder-length blonde hair, eyes closed, smiling pleasedly.
    Síocháin interrupted her grooming. "Drink your
fill?"
    "Do I ever?" Rianaire sounded almost disappointed.
"Still," she said, "my people need me and the beds here are simply
not sufficient to fit them all."
    "I do pity your biographers." Síocháin began walking,
Rianaire followed.
    Rianaire buttoned her caraco and they made for the
stairs and out the front door. "The books will certainly take a
turn after the first hundred years. 'She dutifully studied the
magics of the Four Sisters, finances, and the histories of the
realm… then came the orgies.' Haha, I can only hope." Rianaire
laughed lightly.
    The streets were full and lively in spite of the
briskness of the day. Merchant stalls lined a high street, their
shouts underscored by the songs of buskers. Spéirbaile wasn't
always so rich with artists and scops and the like. It had, for the
bulk of its history, been a city built on the cold, steel bones of
tradition and vigilance. A vigilance that had long outlived the
raiders her forebears had sought to keep at bay, Rianaire felt. She
was fond of reminding her Binsemen that the north was not so wild
as it had been. Even the hippocamps had given up on Spéirbaile.
    The walk was pleasant. Talk was sparse, but Rianaire
had spent so much of her life in temples and Bastion towers that
she always relished being out-of-doors. It had always helped clear
her mind. Perhaps a relic of her youth when she wasn't availed to
the sun and the breeze with any regularity.
    "I've decided!" Rianaire declared in a voice loud
enough to startle Síocháin, who was lost in thoughts of her
own.
    "What have you decided now?"
    "We'll not return to the Bastion today." Rianaire
sounded almost triumphant in her declaration.
    Síocháin didn't seem surprised. "The Binse is sure to
express their displeasure at having to spend a day without her
Grace under close watch."
    "Surely the province will plummet into unrest and
we'll each suffer untold horrors at the hands of the hippocamps!"
Rianaire grabbed Síocháin and dipped her romantically. "But fear
not, simple elf! The mighty heroine of Spéirbaile will push them
back. They say she is as mighty as a dozen centaur warlords!"
    Síocháin's face remained placid. "Do they?"
    Rianaire stood up and considered this a moment. "Hm.
Surely someone must." She shrugged. "Either way, facts are
facts."
    Síocháin straightened her dress. "Twelve, was
it?"
    Rianaire struck another flamboyant pose. "It was! And
a modest count, to say the least!"
    Síocháin allowed herself the slightest of laughs.
Rianaire threw her hands up in victory. "Ha! I have cracked the
armor around the heart of the maiden! Surely this means my cause is
just."
    "The cause of shirking your responsibilities as
leader of the north?"
    "The very same!" Rianaire was too busy with her
theater to rise to the jab. She marched off down the street leaving
Síocháin very little choice but to reluctantly follow.
    It was a few blocks before Síocháin noticed where
Rianaire was leading them. "Rianaire, I'm afraid I really must ask
where it is you think we're going?"
    "Ah!" Rianaire seemed to have just remembered that
they were headed anywhere at all. "There is a fantastic potshop in
the Outer Crescent that has piqued my curiosity. So rare that I
make it to the outer ring, isn't it?" Going beyond the second of
Spéirbaile's three great walls was as exciting now as it was when
she was young. Maybe even