Sehanine walked the dirt path with irritated ferocity. It decidedly had been a long day and its finish had been the pinnacle of experiences. The last farm fiend had punctuated his answers to their questions with a colorful proposition so detailed that there was no need for any imagination. An image of the rapidly vibrating straw that stuck out of his thin-lipped mouth was forever burned into her memory and it set her stomach to spinning.

Out of the corner of her eye she noticed her companion moving with a perky spring in his step. Tristan did little to hide his mirth, and it set her blood to a rolling boil. Pointedly, Sehanine shot the goateed man a look that could have melted iron, which brought even more sunlight to the man's irritatingly mirthful stride.

"Come now," Tristan began in a smarmy tone. "I haven't done anything this time." He did little to hide his smirk.

In immediate response, a hiss escaped her lips as she snapped her head fully in his direction, "A day with these country bumpkins leaves me wanting a bath." A wicked twinkle began to dance in her eyes as her gaze rested on the man. "But you seem to have fit right in, you've made a lovely toothless friend..."

She was rewarded with a grimace complete with widened eyes, and he replied in a tone fully matching his expression. "We certainly have a following in this place. Perhaps a few follow too closely..."

Seeing his disgusted grimace only encouraged her biting tongue, "Oh, but she was just so helpful, Tristan. You really should have joined her for a drink. Imagine how soft that toothless maw is!"

Truthfully, it had been a trying day for both of them as they suffered the attentions of one country twit after another. A number of the town... gentlemen had designs on her, which she encouraged to loosen their tongues. It was all part of the game she played. Irritating as it might be to listen to yet another farm hand tell a brilliant joke about sheep, she was used to it and often the end result was well worth it. Every so often, however, there came along a mark that pushed the limits of even the most talented con. Today, Tristan had drawn that card in Maud, the toothless tart. It had taken all the power of every god that ever was to keep her from rolling around on the floor in fits of laughter the moment the drunken hag made her first advance on Tristan. It was a memory she would cherish for the rest of her days.

Despite their differences, she had to give Tristan his due. He handled the situation expertly. The man was good, truly a worthy rival. Another scene from the ballad of Tristan and Maud came to her, bringing an impish grin to her lips.

It return, Tristan smiled wryly, ready with his own verbal daggers, "Yes, well, I don't know where we would have found time alone. I was traveling with the most sought-after she-elf in all of Cordova, don'cha know?"

At that a flirtatious giggle danced from her lips and she batted her eyes demurely. "Oh my darling, I'm so sorry to have made you jealous. Just because I prefer the affections of pubescent bumpkins to yours doesn't mean no woman will have you. Maud, the toothless wonder would have welcomed you gladly. You should have said something if you desired her so." Sehanine purred.

Tristan's response came quickly, accompanied with his ever-present smirk. "Alas, she'd be lost in the horde of your many... admirers." His smirk became a full on smile and the light in his eyes danced with a wicked glee as he continued, "What was the last count? Three marriage proposals, four declarations of eternal love, and one extremely ill conceived proposition? How could anybody compete with you?"

They can't, not in this. The response echoed through her mind. Here, in this mortal world, she was more than some mere flirtatious hedonist. The fey blood that flowed through her veins lent her an uncanny aura. Even if her natural charms failed to beguile, she had magics that would seal the deal. All done under a mask of hedonism, Sehanine was quite adept at steering the lives of those she met in a direction of her liking. Catching the quiet, perceptive intensity in Tristan's eyes brought her back to the matter at hand. She would have to watch herself around him. If there was any among them that could ferret out the meaning behind her actions it was him, and she wasn't ready yet to reveal her deeper intentions, not that she even knew fully what they were.

With a flick, she tossed a lock of silver hair out of her face and sighed with feigned disappointment, "Yes, it really was such a slow day for me. I think I could have gotten at least twice as many marriage proposals." She paused and smiled with a poisoned sweetness, "Next time I'll save one of the rings for you and Maud."

Tristan's laughter signaled an end to this round of verbal sparring. His tone sobered as he asked, "So, what did we actually walk away with? Sand-dwellers who may or may not follow Sartyria?"

"That and little else. It all makes me trust Isiah less and less."

There was little to ground her suspicions, but the more she learned the less sense it all made. Isiah had a simple farm that at first glance offered little to entice a covey of clandestine riders. Those they spoke to throughout the day had found it odd that the riders would seek to annex an isolated farm. That Isiah was relatively new to town and kept to himself only fed the fires of distrust. There was far more going on here and her mind worked furiously to make some sense of the pattern.

Tristan's voice, dripping with sarcasm, broke her reverie, "Perhaps the youngest boy is in possession of a dragon egg that will change the course of history."

"Only if he feeds it to a certain toothless temptress..." Without thought the biting remark flew from her lips almost immediately. She must have been more on edge than she realized if it was that easy to spark her. Still, Sehanine let the remark float in the air a moment just to savor its bitter flavor a bit longer. Then with a sobering breath she continued in a cool, calm tone, "We know far too little of this man, nothing makes sense."

"Much as it pains me, I can't find a reason to disagree with you," Tristan replied in an equally sober tone. "But with no more information, it will do little good to worry about it."

She nodded quietly, her silver hair tussling about her shoulder. When she spoke, an air of warning coated each word. "There is naught we can do without more information. Just be vigilant. There is more in the air than we can yet see..."

An empty laughter, that sounded half caught in his throat came from Tristan as he replied somberly, "A lesson past learnt; and I suppose I should thank you for that."

At that a smile crept across her lips as she mused over their first meeting. Sehanine found herself glad that he had survived, even if it meant he had the coveted elven bracers, for now. She would see them returned to elven hands, but for now she was content to let the human man carry them. So long as they traveled together, she would make sure they were never used against The People. 
As the moment of quiet repose passed, her voice found breath again and her focus turned to their inevitable reunion with Fortune's Favoured, "What shall we tell the others of our little country foray?"

"I see no reason to hide anything so far. Maybe be careful mentioning Sartyria around Relos. I have no idea what standing his deity might have with theirs, but lets avoid a crusade if we can. It would make a necessary retreat difficult."

Sehanine nodded in agreement with his perceptive observation. "Wise words. He'll likely go trumpeting off at the slightest mention of Sartyria's name."

Nodding, Tristan turned to look further along the path. "Ah. Here comes the Masked Malfunction. I wonder if he learned anything of note."

The mention of the self-named hero brought forth an involuntary eye roll. If any among them were going to spoil the ruse, it would be him. Already he had nearly revealed everything to their toy paladin and she doubted he'd take too long to do it all over again. To put it simply, the man truly wanted to be a hero, and he wanted it badly. For the rest of them in was a ruse of convenience, but to him it was a dream and that was dangerous.

While still far out of Malachi's earshot, Sehanine spoke a final biting remark, "It'll be a miracle if he heard anything over his own hot air... Let's see just how inflated the bumpkin worship has made him."

Soon, they were joined by the self-titled “Argent Blade” moving at a quick pace. As soon as he met them, Malachi blurted out “You two look like you’re up to something. Did you find anything useful today?”

Sehanine answered his query in a tone soaked in saccharin, “Oh nothing much, we’ve just been plotting the demise of a certain magnificent masked marauder.” She dearly hoped he didn’t read too much into the joke lest he find something.

The trio continued the rest of the short way to the farm with the fading light wrapping each of them in a golden halo. Conversation was brief and introductory, but eventually turned to the matter of Isiah and his mysterious sand sent riders.

As they neared the hut Malachi steered their conversation to the matter at hand, “Oh, I learned something that may be of use. Though it isn’t much. I met some old hoary man who thought he’d heard of these desert riders before. Seems they raided some of the townsfolk awhile back, but he thought it was kind of strange they would try to take the farm. Something he said stuck out to me in particular. They’re followers of Sartyria, the fire goddess.”

His words confirmed much of what they had learned from the villagers themselves. None of what they waded through made a bit of sense, but one thing was growing clear, they would be dealing with Sartyrian religion. Even with her own love of chaos, it was not a thing she relished.

Reaching out a hand, Sehanine touched Malachi’s arm to slow their pace. “This is perhaps a thing we should keep to ourselves. That these events are odd is clearly evident and needs no mentioning.” She paused letting the reason in her words hide her true intentions. Subterfuge was so deep a part of her that she did not know if she truly could speak without deception dancing on her tongue.

The elf continued, this time speaking with urgency. “More importantly, until we know more, we should keep mention of Sartyria from Relos. Judging from his enthusiasm, our holy knight will be running off to start a holy war.”

A few more steps brought them face to face with Isiah’s opening front door and the farmer himself, along with Calopee and the holy Relos. The group quickly found themselves sitting around a peasant table with steaming bowls of stew and heaping piles of bread. It all stank of the human propensity to cook individual ingredients into homogenous pools of gelatinous mush. Their seeming fear of a simple, isolated fruit or vegetable was far beyond her understanding. Sehanine longed for elven fare and found herself dreaming of raw carrots. Her time in Cordova had taught her to stomach the vile stews these short-lived peoples seemed to love so much, but enjoying it was another matter entirely. Still, her body had a pesky habit of requiring food for survival. Ripping off a corner of bread, the elven enchantress went about letting it soak up the meaty broth before popping it in her mouth and choking it down. It wasn’t THAT bad. 

After a few tortured bites Sehanine let her voice join the conversation. “It seems these desert riders have come to town before. Ever run into them before now?”

The moonlit elf paused and brushed a silver strand from her face. She did not trust this Isiah, and the thought of discussing their plans with him did not sit well with her. It was entirely possible that he was completely innocent, none of the pieces of the pattern fit together. It would all be so much easier if he just wasn't here. 

A sly thought dawned in her mind, and she focused her violet eyes on the man. "Isiah, it would be best if you and your sons went in to town tonight, before these desert men get here. We don't know how things will go with them, and, if things go sour, it'll be better if you're far from here. That way, we will know you're safe."

Sehanine watched the man closely, waiting for his response. It was true that things would be much easier without having to worry about the farmer and his family, but this little request might also reveal a bit of Isiah's intentions. Her request was sound and seemingly for his own welfare, any refusal of it would surely prove her distrust right.

((The conversation between Sehanine and Tristan brought to you by the twisted minds of Chessic and Nimu))