At the End of the Day

The ride to the new home.

Now that he had the job, Balgair dug in and worked hard until mid-afternoon, when he stopped what he was doing and called for Tackett.

The sergeant knocked on the door and, after receiving acknowledgment from Balgair, took two steps into the room and saluted.  “You called, Sir?”

“Yes, I did.” Balgair gestured for him to sit.  “You mentioned something about warning the Mayor, Magaidh, and Captain of the Guard that leaving nobody to use the Communication Crystal violated High Council rules.” 

“Yes, sir, I did.”  Tackett eyed Balgair, not sure where the conversation was going. 

“Feel like putting that writing?”  Balgair flashed an evil grin. 

“I can, sir, if that's what you want.”  The sergeant leaned forward and watched Balgair closely.  “What did you have in mind, sir?” 

“Three letters from you to me, stating your actions when all three said they were leaving Eola and what you did afterward.”  Balgair looked smug.  “How quickly can you have them ready for me?”

Tackett leaned back, rubbing his chin as he thought.  “I can get them ready for you in an hour.  When do you intend to act upon them?” 

“I think tomorrow should be a good time.”  Balgair smiled.

Oh, he’s going to get them.  Heather thought as she felt the cold chill coming from her Maighstir.  Whatever he had planned, it was going to be cold and ruthless.  There’s not going to be a chance of failure. 

“Yes, sir.  I’ll have those letters in two hours.  They’ll be on your desk in the morning when you arrive.”

Balgair spent the remaining time doing little side projects.  “Heather, it’s time to go.” He gestured, bringing Heather out of her near fugue state. 

“Of course, Maighstir,” Heather rose to her feet and followed Balgair out of the office and into the central core. 

“Are you ready to go, Delilah?” 

The scribe looked up from her work and eyed her new boss.  “Yes, sir.  It won’t take me but a moment.”

Balgair nodded.  “Before we leave, is it far to the estate?” 

Delilah smiled as she put her work away in the desk drawer.  “It’s only five minutes away by Landau, sir.”  She beamed as she caught Balgair by surprise.

Heather could almost taste his chagrin and puckered her lips as she got a sudden tart sensation. 

I didn’t even think about a wagon.  Though I should have.  Balgair sighed.  “Thank you, Delilah.  How long will it take to hook up the landau?”

“Not long, sir.”  The scribe replied.  “The driver should have it ready by the time we get there.  It’s usually parked just out back.” 

Balgair shook his head.  “Thank you, Delilah.”  He didn’t have anyone to blame but himself for not thinking about the wagon. 

“I’m ready, sir,” the brown-haired scribe led the way through the hallways and out a door in the back. 

Once outside, She put on a duster and then pointed over a four-wheeled passenger wagon that could seat eight people. “There it is, sir.”  She crossed the courtyard to the Landau and reached for the door.

“Allow me,” Balgair beat her to it and opened the door, gesturing for her to climb up first. Then he helped Heather into the vehicle, where he sat on the back bench and called out to the driver.  “Do you know where the ‘Black Swan” is located?” 

The Driver nodded.  “Yes, sir.  I do.  We can be there in four minutes.”  When he was sure Balgair was ready, the driver used a light whip to tap the horse's haunches, sending them into motion. 

Heather and Delilah covertly watched Balgair as the driver sped the horses down the brick street.  They could tell he wasn’t used to riding and would rather be the driver.  The third time he fidgeted, Heather took his left hand and pulled it to her chest.  “Relax, Maighstir, let the driver drive.”  When he gave her a curious look, she continued, “It’s not seemly for a Reve to drive a carriage.  That’s what we have Drivers for.” 

It took Balgair about a minute to calm down, “I know you’re right, but I’m used to walking.” 

“Dafyd was the same way,” Delilah commented from Balgair’s other side.  “The only reason we have this carriage is because it came with the job.”  She smiled fondly.   “He always traveled by horseback.” She looked at Balgair, “I used the carriage more than he did.” 

Balgair gave a half-nod.  “I haven’t met many men that like riding in carriages, at least not in the Saor-Shelbhean.”  He reached over and patted Delilah on the knee.  “I wish I could have met your Dafyd.  He sounds like quite a man.” 

The woman, no longer a bean-cheangail, placed her hand on his.  “He would have liked you.”  She stated, “Thank you for bringing his killer to justice.” 

Silence ruled as the mercenary turned Reve had a flashback to the fight with Brutus, who he had dismembered, one limb at a time.  “At least there is that,” he solemnly replied. 

Heather hid her gasp of shock as she felt the stale, pale specter of death that came along with Balgair’s memory of killing Brigit’s Muscle.  She shivered as that memory opened the floodgates of previous times when he had to kill.  My goddess, what is he?  How is he not a monster?  She clutched his hand tighter, her lips tightening as she let those memories flow.  Then, unbidden, another thought crossed her mind.  I wish Amelia and Nell were here. They’d know what to do. 

It was as if her thinking of his other two bonds had also brought them to his mind, and she suddenly smelled tart berries and lilacs sweet.  Heather dared to glance up and saw the transformation that came over him as he calmed down, and a faraway look crossed his face.  That’s amazing.  She thought as she felt his pulse slow.  That’s why he’s not a monster.  He loves them.  They are his anchor.  Now, I’m one as well, aren’t I?

“I’d give a copper to know what he’s thinking,” Delilah whispered as Balgair relaxed back against the seat. 

“Not much, just berries tart and lilacs sweet,” Heather replied, drawing a look of confusion from the other woman. 

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