Iryana suppressed her shudder.
“How would we know if he’srough?” a voice slurred out from another table, coming from a woman that was straddling another soldier. “He is so stuffy, never joins in.”
It took Iryana a moment to realize what the woman meant by “rough”, but the others at her table immediately started laughing. She blamed the alcohol for making her head fuzzy. But she considered it with the excessive attention of someone too far in their cups.
Given how tense Pyetar seemed all the time, he could probably stand tojoin inwith the others occasionally. Maybe he was such an asshole because he was sexually deprived. Iryana had to hide a smile at the thought.
The woman looked like she was going to continue, but the man she was on top of pinched her ass, seeming to regain her attention. In the pause that followed, Iryana realized she could try to take advantage of the turn in conversation.
“The soldiers who visit the posts sell stuff too, right? Like the Beast’s Poppy?” Iryana made sure to keep her voice casual despite how tight her throat was.
Her teammates seemed to focus on her. All but Vabihn, who was whispering in his wife’s ear while she blushed, her hands pawing at his chest.
“The sale and use of the Beast’s Poppy is forbidden in all but the most vital scenarios,” Vaneshta said sternly, as if Iryana had asked for some. “The generalandthe King Commander have forbidden it, so don’t claim anyone is peddling unless you have proof.”
The others seemed tense, and Iryana realized they were probably all scared of Pyetar and didn’t want to be associated with her accusations.
“Good to know,” Iryana said tightly. “But who is the King Commander?”
Mezhimar groaned at her question, but Vaneshta answered. “He was general of another brigade, but he’s been pulling others under his control as an alliance of sorts. Calls himself the King Commander. Far as I know, he hasn’t officially brought the 18th in, but he’s declared the entire Lasharye Highlands as his territory.”
A united military was not a pleasant thought.
“No one knows how the general is going to respond,” Pepha chimed in as she tugged at her dark hair.
“We’ll worry about it when we have to,” Vaneshta said calmingly.
“So,” Iryana forced herself to continue her questioning. “Where does the poppy come from? Who is selling it?”
Vabihn was watching her now, face hard, while Pepha looked around anxiously and shrunk her slender body into her seat as if to avoid notice.
“It doesn’t come from the 18th,” Vaneshta answered eventually, voice unnaturally even. “And if it does, whoever is doing it will be banished or killed if found out. I suggest you don’t ask about it again.”
Iryana nodded quickly. The others changed the subject, not asking her any more questions, which was for the best, as her head was spinning.
If the poppy was officially banned, it made sense that she hadn’t seen it in the delivery she had made with her team to the water village. It probably wasn’t sold in any official capacity, which was an immense relief. It meant she would be unlikely to have to work with it. But the poppywasbeing sold, so if it wasn’t something the brigade was doing, it was likely a smaller operation run by a few individuals. Perhaps individuals who could move freely through the territory and meet with the settlements in private… like the specialists. Like Pyetar.
Pepha unfurled herself slightly and looked at Iryana. “Not to, uh, bring it up again, but despite your experiences with him from when you were a guardian, I would try not to offend Pyetar,” Pepha said softly, as if imparting great wisdom.
It was a bit late for that.
Vabihn grinned. “Sen Pyetar would have been favored by Noshtiz; the tales say he always chose the fiercest of fighters as his Champions.”
Iryana frowned at that. The metal-god was always the strongest and most vicious of the gods in the stories her family told, but he was always more thanthat. Noshtiz was a protector above anything else, or at least that’s how the stories she’d been told usually went. Pyetar as a protector was laughable.
Mezhimar leaned forward, eyes twinkling. “You know… It wouldn’t be surprising if, in the hundreds of years since the god-giants killed each other, accounts drifted from the truth. Perhaps our great Noshtiz was as cowardly and selfish as us mortals.”
“Hush, Mezho!” Pepha hissed. “Just because the gods are dead doesn’t mean you should blaspheme them! Your magic comes from his veins; what if you anger it?”
“If the gods even existed in the first place.” Mezhimar rolled his eyes. “Besides, I think the idea that the wells are fed by the blood of the god-giants is ridiculous. My parents told me that the magic had always been deep in the earth, and the gods were once mortals that learned how to harness it.”
“That’s ridiculous. If that were the case, wouldn’t we be gods?” Vabihn flexed his biceps.
Mezhimar narrowed his eyes. “Not if the gods took most of the earth’s magic. I believe battling in their giant-forms sucked so much magic from the earth that there was not enough left for new gods to be made.”
It was the first time Iryana had seen the tall, quiet ranger be truly argumentative. She supposed it wasn’t too surprising. After so much had been lost in Istri, clinging to the stories of their childhood was a way to hold on to that world before the dakii came.
“It doesn’t matter,” Vaneshta interrupted them, to Iryana’s surprise. “They’re long dead. And the earth’s magic is ours now.”
