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Shortly after Áine had shown me where many people set up their stalls for trading, a bell echoed throughout the tunnels. Many people moved, which made me think it was a warning, attacks outside couldn’t be uncommon. When others didn’t look up from their wares, still sat on carved rock or leant against the walls, I finished looking at a basket of braided crowns that were being traded for their upcoming spring celebration. I caught up with Áine who browsed a little further in.
“Should I be worried about that bell?”
“What?” she said, looking around for the threat. “Oh, the bell? It’s for lunch— you hungry?”
After stopping off at ‘home’ for our eating utensils, we made our way back to the large open space outside the council chamber. The crush of people told me why some had waited with their stalls. On the opposite side to where the queue for water was, long, low tables were laid out with basic foods. Chunks of dense-looking bread sat alongside piles of apples, and further down, cauldrons of stew were ladled into waiting bowls. I didn’t miss the occasional guard who stood behind those helping.
There were no other tables set out, so after getting their food, people dispersed back into the tunnels or out the way the farms and grassland were. The space didn’t seem to get any emptier whilst we waited, though. After claiming our share, we decided to head outside and find a spot in the nearby field.
“We all eventually have our turn with food, even the council,” Áine said as we walked. “It’s a bit of a chore, so it usually means you get to eat first and finish the day early.”
“Sounds like a bit of a chore to organise this many people too.” I chewed a bite of the bread. It had such a dark, earthy flavour, I had to clear my throat. I put it in my stew with hopes of making it more palatable.
She smiled and nodded. “It’s divided into districts and then the hubs do the rest. It’s not a job I’d enjoy, but some people love that stuff.”
The exit opened up at the lowest point of the rolling hills, the white-cloaked sky obscuring any sun trying to break through. I wrapped my hands around the wooden bowl, warming them against the typically-March day. The view flattened out in between, and spanning down the valley as far as I could see, cultivated land lay in every state between being turned over and neatly growing leafy greens. People tended the ground in most of these too. Without the sun, the mountains around us didn’t look high enough to veil it all, but, at the same time, I couldn’t hear any roads. Only birdsong. At the edges of the managed land, bunches of daffodils gave me the sun that I’d been hoping for.
As we made our way to the grassy expanse opposite, Áine said, “It’s warded, of course, as you might imagine. Not too dissimilar to the ones your father used, except if anyone comes across it, they come out the other side. I think it’s been officially mapped like that and everything.”
We found a space to sit and, although it was damp and a little muddy, nobody seemed to mind. I scooped my coat underneath myself as I sat.
“You think I could go walking then? How much of it is protected?” I sipped from my bowl and saw other people using their bread as a spoon for the chunks. Further down, I could just make out people sparring, and Áine pointed past them.
“I think it’s a little further than them, but probably best to stay on this side to be safe.”
Pulling my legs closer to shield against the cold, I quietly asked, “Áine? How long was the last war?” How long could I be here?
She looked back, and I could see in her forehead that she was trying to work out a response. “It was a little bit different without the shadow, but there were reports of Unseelie attacks for about three years after. For us, it’s only been about six-hundred years since our land, Albios, was founded and as far as I know... Pelthas here hasn’t been needed since. I guess the small blessing from the time rift is that it won’t be an extraordinary amount of time for your life here...”
We finished off our stew, I resorted to using my fingers. As we ate, the world around me faded into the distance. I stared at the food, and the flavours and textures registered as little as the background noise. I hadn’t had concrete plans, but the ability to make them and choose disappeared as I registered what she’d said. It could have been twenty years away from their families if the time rift was active.
“Occasionally the cities do change courts, but the last Seelie-Unseelie Pact lasted the longest so far. Essentially, whilst the Seelie were in court, the Unseelie had their choice of positions. That might sound detrimental, it’s worth remembering that it was still under a Seelie Council though. There was a man called Llyr, a direct descendant of one of the old families, and he started feeding them this idea that the Unseelie were entitled to more. They wanted to change the system and suddenly didn’t like being reliant on the Seelie, until one night they nearly killed the council in their sleep.
“Lunete was still young, but the hints she gave saved them. She’s been a huge influence on the Seelie since then and eventually took up the Master of Vision post. But I think Olwen’s more suited as Prime Figure, really.”
“The Unseelie must really want Lunete out the way then,” I said under my breath as we got up. She gave me a grim smile before we started back, there were still afternoon duties before we could rest. The field was beginning to clear.
“As far as I know, all the people involved were executed. Geraint, the Prime Father before, wanted to set an example with them.” She lowered her voice. “Drust’s blood family... his grandfather was the one who let them into the prime house.”
I gave her a return look that was supposed to mean ‘you can’t just drop that in there’, but she shook her head and guided us to a place to wash our bowls. The more I heard as we descended into the tunnels again, the more I felt that old familiar weight settle on my shoulders.
––––––––
After dropping off our bowls, we continued to the district hub further down the passage that held our room. It ended up being larger than some of the individual chambers I’d seen and, as we entered, Emer waved from the group of children she was sat with. We approached the back of the cavern where lamps hanging on hooks lit up a circle of adults sat on the opposite side. Most of them sat on a woven mat with two of the older ones on basic stalls. They all worked between supermarket notebooks, quietly conferring. They all greeted us when Áine approached. A bearded man smiled.
“Iùrnan, Barra, Mairéad, Ailish, Guaire, how do you find yourselves?”
“Áine!” One of the women said and then spoke in the same rhythmic language I’d heard up until this point. Áine answered in the same, and they had a short chat before she gestured to me. “This is Morgan, she’ll be staying with us for the time being. I’m just showing her around today, but she’ll be an extra pair of hands. She’ll need to fit in sparring and two other meetings every couple of days though. Can we give her tomorrow to settle in, and then start to schedule her afterwards?”
The other woman nodded and rapidly summarised to the others. “Welcome. Come with the girls, and by then, we’ll have something.” Then, turning back to Áine, she said, “You have time? Taraghlan is down hands on blankets?”
“No problem.” She looked at me. “It’ll give you an introduction of sorts.”
As I followed, I watched as she checked in with two families along the way. They had all been bound together by close living quarters, and the assistance they offered each other was traded just like the wares below. We turned the corner to see another group, all at different stages of working wool— pulling it apart, spinning it. Before Áine engaged in conversation with a man, presumably Taraghlan, she showed me how to tease the coarse wool out.
Like old friends, their heads bent together in earnest discussion. Every now and then though, Áine checked in and recapped very briefly. I began to notice commonplace words. The weaver, an elderly man with silver hair and nimble fingers, explained how his daughter had decided to be courtless. He looked weary.
It was mindless work, and soon a palpable heaviness began to settle on my own spirit. It whispered that I wasn’t doing enough, that I would be a burden to these people.
Eventually, Áine turned the conversation to their upcoming Ēostre celebration, which I took to be their spring celebration, and alternated between English and their national language, Sindaric, again. They were looking forward to decorating with spring flowers, and lighting carved candles at the big bonfire dance.