The carriage began with a jolt, causing the two women aware of the motion a slight jostle, though Córu nearly toppled out of her seat, forcing Eilidh to reach over and catch her before pulling her back up. After chatting over snacks – very little about Córu so as to win over her confidence – Eilidh had inquired about procuring the McPhee carriage and exploring the town “properly”, which was a proposition Lady McPhee was much too happy to accept. She’d been homebound much of the week, and the chance of seeing the town and catching the fresh air appealed to her in a way that she hadn’t known in a long time, though it was Córustrea’s excitement which made it all the more enticing of an arrangement.

As the large wheels toppled over uneven cobblestones, sending the carriage sauntering back and forth, Córu braced herself, catching herself between the window to her left and grabbing onto Eilidh’s shoulder to her right, stiffened as rigidly as she could, trying to battle the rickety movement.

“Here,” Eilidh offered to explain, sharing her secret, “Just- plant your feet like so, and let your upper body just ride with the waves of the carriage’s motion. You won’t go anywhere.”

Córu’s eyes flittered down to her feet without moving, slowly sliding them into place before pulling a hand away from Eilidh, only to return it, “Oh! Gods, I can’t!”

“You can, just- Here,” Eilidh reached over, taking her shoulder instead, “Now, try it. I’ve got you, alright?”

Taking a short series of deep breaths, Córu carefully pulled her hand from the carriage window before tugging on Eilidh’s shoulder for one last modicum of support, then releasing it, leaving herself to the whims of the sauntering carriage ride. She visibly shook at the sensation of being left to the waves of cobblestone, her only comfort being Eilidh’s hand atop her shoulder.

“Look at you!” Ariella praised from across the two, “I remember my first cross-country carriage rides with my husband; it was even more dreadful than this, if you can imagine. This is all with these cobblestones having been graded!”

“And a crack job that’s been done,” Eilidh rolled her eyes, muttering sarcastically as she sat back in her seat with her hand still firmly atop Córu’s shoulder, “So, we’re gonna stop by and pick up Skyla and make a night of all this?”

Ariella nodded, considering Córu with her eyes, “So long as our resident selkie is alright with meeting somebody else?”

Still preoccupied with the movement of the carriage, Córu nonetheless offered a gentle nod, “Y- Yes…”

“Wonderful!” exclaimed the matriarch, returning to Eilidh, “Are we-?”

Eilidh sighed, “I say let’s see where the night takes us. If the opportunity presents itself, we tell her, if it doesn’t, we don’t. She would be the first person to understand us not revealing it until after the fact.”

“I suppose you’re right,” sighed Ariella, “Still, I hate to keep it from her.”

“It’s her fault for being such a sour little teasing wench at the best of times. I mean, I love her for that, but this is a serious matter,” Eilidh frowned, “If this were a more- long-term thing, I could see more value in explaining it sooner, but as it is-”

Ariella nodded, “So, she’s not staying around here?”

Córu frowned, “I- That wasn’t the plan.”

“She couldn’t speak, and only learned the language on a fluke- do not ask,” Eilidh rolled her eyes, “So there’s a lot she’s unaware of as far as the culture and everything. I think the tentative plan-” she turned to Córu for confirmation. “-is for her to figure out a long-term plan and us build up a knowledge base that fits that before she heads off.”

Córu nodded.

“I see,” Ariella replied with a tender voice, “Well, all things considered, I do appreciate the trust you’ve both put in me. It can’t have been easy.”

Eilidh sighed with exasperation, “I wasn’t exactly in a rush to find out I was totally without a mind.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Ariella giggled behind a fist, leaning toward Córu, “When we were children, she rescued – and I use that term quite loosely – a newt from a rock near a stream. Likely its home, but she was convinced it would do better in a stuffy Scottish home.”

Rolling her eyes, Eilidh dropped her head back against the wall of the carriage, “You’re becoming insufferable, again, Ari…”

Córu grinned, “I’ve gotten the feeling that, when she gets her mind onto something, there’s very little that stops her.”

“Gods, no!” throwing her eyes up into her skull, Ariella laughed, “She’s always been a little-”

“Can we not?!” Eilidh spoke up with a terse voice, “I wasn’t aware this was the ‘pile on Eilidh’ affair.”

Córu laughed, neither her nor Eilidh noticing that, despite her growing comfort, the human hadn’t pulled her hand from the selkie’s shoulder, “I do enjoy hearing about you two and what you got up to as lir- children, though. What was that term you used earlier? Wes tenders?”

“Oh, gods, no…” Eilidh groaned, though Ariella appeared positively elated.

“Twenty years ago,” she cleared her throat, sliding up to the edge of her seat, “When we were but wee lasses, Skyla and I were friend, but Eilidh was a girl in town we knew, but didn’t exactly know as a friend, okay? Well, there was a boy and his gaggle of rabble-rousers, Bailey, if I recall; a real ogre of a lad. He hadn’t the brains to be a bully, but he did have the numbers – this one here-” she gestured toward Eilidh. “-not only did she come find us to proffer a partnership in order to get this boy kicked in the teeth and shown what for, she made the arrangements, and relinquished control of it all to me, of all things.”

Eilidh sighed, turning to Córu to explain, “I’ve always been a better second-in-command. The long arm of somebody else.”

“Well, it impressed the fluff out of Skyla and me.”

Córu’s brow tensed with inquiry, “What arrangements were made, though?”

“I mean, they were boys; we were just scrappy little girls,” shrugged Eilidh, “The part she mentioned about their lack of brains comes in at this part.”

Ariella laughed, “Aye procured a couple of carbines. We scared the absolute shit out of those boys.”

Córu turned toward Eilidh with surprise, “You did what?!”

“Hey, a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do,” she explained with a meager shrug, allowing a smug grin, “It was pretty fun, though. We had a bunch of bullied kids coming out to find the Westenders- that was the bullies’ gang name that we, apparently, won from them that day.”

“Which was retired in our teenage years,” Ariella explained with something of a mournful expression, “When we had to grow up and leave behind all the fun and games. Well, two of us; I get to play quite a bit with my children.”

Eilidh frowned, “Still not worth it.”

Ariella smirked, shrugging dismissively as Córu spoke up, “Wow, that’s- incredible.”

“I mean, I don’t keep a musket around just because it looks cool. Speaking of-” Eilidh pulled her hand away from the selkie’s shoulder, peering out the window and returning quickly, “Can you keep an eye on her while I run and get my musket from Finn?”

Arielle nodded, though Eilidh quickly turned her eye to Coru, “No, I meant you. If you’ve got her regaling, you with tales of our childhood, you’ve got to make sure she’s not hopping out of here trying to get to the nearest pub to outdrink Drunk Parker again.”

“One time and you never live it down…”

Córu eyed her human housemate, nodding gently with a smile, “I- suppose I’ll do my best.”

“I’ll be good; gods damn. Don’t make me look bad, now,” Ariella shooed her off with a wave of her hand, “Go on! Get!”

Swinging open the door and hopping out, Eilidh swung back around, shooting a severely critical stare toward Ariella, “You keep her safe, now.”

“Dear,” was the woman’s equally severe, pithy comeback, “We’ll swing back around in a half hours’ time.”

Nodding, Eilidh gave Córu another glance, the two sharing a smile before turning to hurry down the lane to Finn’s Emporium.

~~~

“Yes, yes; quite nice indeed,” Finn’s voice was meticulously fraught as he haggled with a customer, reaching for his small steam engine, “But this is nicer!”

“Eh, I dun’ think so,” grumbled the customer, “This thing’ll knock yer socks clean off.”

“Eh, that’s what they all say.”

The customer frowned, “No, really, it will. See?” He lifted a foot onto Finn’s counter, causing the proprietor to recoil in a sudden bout of terror, before reaching a small contraption down toward his boot, attempting to line up a two-pronged arm along the sides of his leg.

“Get your foot off my counter, you-! you clog!” spouted an angry Finn, unwilling to shove the limb free.

The man shrugged, “I still have to show you how my contraption works if yer gonna buy it.”

“I’m not going to buy anything if you disrespect the counter!” Finn growled, reaching for a rag as the man slid his boot back off the oaken counter, “Now! I’ll ask for more restraint next time you have such an impulse!”

“An impulse t’ make a sale?!” the man brusquely grumbled, “I thought you were a seriously reseller.”

A woman suddenly spoke up from behind him, “Oh, and he is!” Eilidh slid up to the counter, smiling ear-to-ear. “In fact, Finn is the preeminent reseller of all things coming and going along the Silk Road, isn’t that right?”

“I- I don’t-” Finn stammered before simply playing along, “Of course I am. Don’t I look it?”

The heavyset customer frowned, “You look more like a squirrel vendor, honestly.”

“And what, exactly, does a-”

“In fact, this thing here, that Finn has so rudely neglected to mention is a very valuable artifact from the Far East-” Eilidh pulled the steam engine over toward the man, “-utilizes mere water to harness the power of the wind. An incredible achievement by any standard!”

The customer frowned, “What do I need with wind?!”

“What don’t you need with wind?!” Eilidh began with a start, summoning a primer on salesmanship before going blank, “You, uh- It holds a bevy of uses, like-” She turned to Finn. “Such as…?”

Finn frowned at her, shaking his head lowly.

“You two haven’t a single clue,” the customer grumbled angrily, grabbing his sock-removing machine and stomping out of the emporium with nothing to show for the visit.

Shrugging, Eilidh frowned, “I tried.”

“Oh, you tried. I’d worked that guy for two hours! I knew the ‘you need this!’ play wasn’t gonna work,” Finn complained, grabbing the steam engine and dropping it at the far end of his counter – once again – before angrily eying Eilidh from his post, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

She dropped her head forward, shrugging, “My musket?”

“Ah, yes,” Finn sighed, perking up, “Actually, my guy is actually still here. Just finished dropping them off, in fact.”

“Them? How many firearms do you take to this guy?”

Finn eyed her, critically, “A shopkeeper’s heart is a vast ocean of secrets, Ms. Stewart. I’d like for you to respect that.”

Scoffing, “I would if I had a clue what any of that meant.”

Knocking on the door frame into the interior of the shop, Finn shouted, “Hey! You’ve gotta visitor!” Grumbling, Finn explained, “Good you’re here, actually. He had half a mind not to repair the thing after seeing the state of it.”

“What?!”

“Said it’s a gun, not a club,” Finn spoke up, “Then muttered something in French, probably a curse; something ineffable, a- I don’t know what.”

Eilidh frowned, “Okay, well, a big, tough Frenchman should be well aware that there are instances where a gun is useful for much more than shooting.”

From the other room, a man emerged, his face already contorted in an angry spin of irritation, his accent thick, “Really, then? And what might that be?”

“I’ll tell you what-”

“Because I did this firearm a service,” the man held up Eilidh’s musket, “Not you. These entrust us with a great deal, and for you to mishandle such a thing so recklessly-” He pulled the butt of the weapon upward, showing off the work he’d done, fusing the wood where he could, but largely having to replace it with wood he procured elsewhere and all but altering the entire thing. “This poor thing hadn’t a choice.”

He eyed Eilidh, “But you did.”

“Because I was saving someone’s life!” she shouted, “Fuck!”

The man’s face tensed, “Is this true?”

Eilidh turned toward Finn, “Tell him!”

“How the fuck should I-?!”

The man raised a finger to his lips as he pulled the musket to his ear.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” Eilidh leaned away, shaking her head in disbelief before returning to Finn, “This is your guy?!”

Finn raised his hands, “He fixed it, didn’t he?!”

“Hush!” the man shouted angrily, returning to his exercise.

Eilidh stared at him, wholly shocked by what she was witness, and even more so when the Frenchman started nodded, as though actually being spoken to by the firearm. He spoke silently, signaled only by the waving of his lips, in some esoteric communication with her musket, like that of some oddly foregone religious order.

“Huh,” he mumbled, “She was quiet until in your presence. Not uncommon, but what you say is, indeed, the truth, it appears.”

“I- legitimately don’t know what to say.”

The man stepped to the counter, gently setting the musket down in front of Eilidh, “She’s a fine specimen. Not the most expensive, but I can tell she’s offered you much over the years.” He raised a pointed finger. “This is a partnership. She can only protect you as much as you protect her. This arrangement seems to have been fruitful. Well, until-” He gestured toward the damage at its end.

Eilidh explained, “There was- somebody trapped in ice. I hadn’t anything else to get them out, so-” She felt her face twist with credulity. “…she was quite the hero.”

Nodding, the man agreed, “And a proud one, at that. I expect her to continue performing adequately in the future.” He reached a hand over. “Noe Moitessier.”

“Eilidh,” was his client’s stern reply, turning to Finn, “Does he make friends with all the merchandise as well?”

Noe cocked a grin, “No, but I don’t handle my language as though it’s on a butcher’s block.”

“You told him?!”

Finn shrugged, “It made for good conversation! Look at him! You think he’s easy to talk to?!” He rubbed at the scuff atop the counter. “I ain’t a gunpowder-used weapon.”

Grabbing her musket, Eilidh growled a lengthy groan as she turned to leave, “See ya, Finn…”

“Keep her in right good shape, you hear?!” Noe shouted, digging some crud from beneath a fingernail as the door to the Emporium swung open, muttering absently, “That steam-thing ain’t gonna sell.”

“I know,” groaned the shopkeeper.