“I was banished. What part of I will be executed if I step foot in the Rirorni Empire, do you not understand?” My‑re asked rhetorically, shaking her head in frustration. She stared at five others sitting at a large, round, ancient-looking table at the Academy of the Eye, better known to Lord Protectors as the Stronghold Academy. The small, stuffy meeting room had a stone floor covered by a simple decorative rug. The wooden chairs were uncomfortable and creaked under her weight. Stacks of books scattered along a bookshelf were off to the side with a fine layer of dust. The room had a musty smell of old parchment. Dark paintings hung on the walls. However, whether the oil in the paint had become old or the artist’s intention was a dark appearance could prove a debatable point.
The captain of the Unsinkable III, Vomarian Fae, said, “I understand your concern-”
Interrupting, My‑re said, “Concern. Concern?”
“Of course, you’d be in disguise.”
“What? A scarf around my face or a fancy hat?”
“You’ll be on a flying ship, so technically, you won’t be stepping foot in the Rirorni Empire.”
“A compelling argument I can have with the noose around my neck,” My‑re snapped back.
Vomarian opened his mouth, then closed it at her hard stare.
“Why can’t he go?” My‑re asked, pointing to General Pol. “He’s a Rirorni and won’t need a disguise. Besides, he speaks Rathiri just as well as I do.”
“Impossible. I have the Broken Sword tavern to run,” Pol replied.
“How about him,” My‑re pointed to Rao, another Rirorni.
“And be considered a traitor by my people? No, thank you. I know the Rirorni War has been over for a number of years, but there is still resentment. No Rirorni would talk to me while standing next to an Alastarian,” Rao said.
“What about her?” My‑re asked, pointing to a third Rirorni, Anusha. “She doesn’t care what anyone thinks.”
“While that is true, I have more enemies in the Rirorni Empire than in Alastari. While the Rirorni would execute you if caught, my enemies would discover I had returned to the Empire. There would be multiple assassin squads sent to liquidate the entire group. It would endanger the mission,” Anusha explained.
My‑re sat back hard against her chair, which, like her sentiment, creaked in protest. “So that leaves me, and only me that can speak Rathiri on the Isle of the Eye?”
“We need an interpreter. The Rirorni consider all other languages, especially the Alastarian dialects, beneath them,” Vomarian explained.
“What about the Grey wand?” My‑re questioned, pointing her chin to Sheila Greywand, sitting across from her. “Didn’t you say it would be going with the group? Can it be used to translate the language?”
Around the table, the Rirorni’s eyes lit up with what My‑re perceived as opportunistic greed. This did not escape Sheila.
“While I did mention that, I intended it more of a blessing than actually physically accompanying the group,” Sheila said, touching the wand on her belt. “The Grey wand will be staying on the Isle of the Eye and not going into the heart of the Rirorni Empire to begin the search for Araminth.”
“So, thoughts and prayers?” My‑re said, questioning that benefit. She then began tapping her nails on both hands hard on the wooden table.
“My‑re, while you are a Lady Protector, no one is forcing you to go,” Sheila Greywand said with the tone of guilt a mother would place on a child.
“Oh, I’m not going,” My‑re snapped.
Silence carried for several heartbeats.
Vomarian said, “I’ve been practicing the Rirorni Language. If I study up a bit, I might be able to get by. I’ve noticed the Rirorni use several words for the same thing. Like horses, grass, manure, war, weapons, tactics, etcetera, so in reality, I would only need to know one of them. It should be easy.”
“Really? Say something,” My‑re queried.
The captain of the Unsinkable III muttered a phrase in Rathiri that roughly translated to, “My quill pen is red.”
“Oh, my gods,” My‑re said, rolling her eyes.
“Like I said, if I train up a bit-” Vomarian began before a loud knock on the chamber door drew everyone’s attention.
A moment later, Captain Daren entered. He said, “Pardon the intrusion, Lady Greywand. A gladiator has answered the call. He indicated he speaks the Rirorni’s language.”
“Show them in,” Sheila said, adjusting her eloquent gown and sitting slightly straighter in her chair.
To My‑re’s surprise, the Shewish Giant Gromp from the Broken Sword tavern emerged and ducked through the doorway. He wore leather armor and appeared ready for combat.
“You know the Rirorni language?” Vomarian asked the giant and pulled a small pouch that jingled with a playful sound of coins. He placed it on the table.
“Yes, Gromp knows what the Rirorni understands,” Gromp said, pulling his longsword from its sheath and lashing out with his weapon in a murderous thrust, striking the air.
They all stared at the Shew. A pleased grin spread across the giant’s face.
“My apologies, Lady Greywand,” Darien said and then turned to Gromp. “Get out.”
As the Shew left, in the distance, they heard him ask, “Gromp still get gold?”
My‑re shook her head and muttered, “This is just getting better by the moment.”