“Oh, no, you bastard, you’re not getting away and making me look like an idiot,” she muttered as she clung on for dear life, wrapping herself around the beast, slowing its momentum and dragging it down. She felt it wriggle and whip like a snake beneath her, bleating in a mixture of fear and anger as it found itself constrained.
“Don’t worry, don’t worry, it’s okay,” she repeated over and over in soothing tones as she held on to the goat. Around her, the livestock farmers were penning those pigs that had escaped and calming those that had remained. Things were returning to a calm mirrored by the creature she still held: its thumping heart against her own chest beginning to slow.
“I think you may cease to grip so closely. I’m sure Markos won’t want you to smell too much of goat. Or maybe he would,” Elias said with heavy humor and a sly glance at the sec boss as he took the goat by the neck, gently guiding it back toward its own pen after Mildred released her grip.
“I know one thing for sure. I could do with a bath already,” she said as she rose, attempting to dust herself down but finding she was covered in an almost adhesive layer of goat grease and farm yard mud.
“Why are you here?” Markos asked brusquely and without ceremony, trying to cover his embarrassment at Elias’s blatant amusement.
“Sineta sent me to check how things were going. She’s with her father again.”
Markos nodded solemnly. “I fear it cannot be long now.”
“Frightened he’s going to buy the farm without naming you?” Elias asked as he returned to them. Although his tone was seemingly light, there was an element of malice shot through.
“You would dare speak of the baron in such a manner—” Markos began, visibly bristling.
“It doesn’t matter how he speaks of him,” Mildred cut in. “It doesn’t change what’s happening or why I’m here. So, how are things going?” She was in no mood to listen to the two men sparring for points, and her last question was delivered in a manner that would brook no argument.
Markos told her briefly that the penning of the livestock was going well, had been going very well until the point at which she had arrived, and that they were on target to be ready for the appointed date. He then pointed out that he should be elsewhere, and excused himself.
“Seems like he can’t wait to get away,” Elias remarked as they watched the sec boss leave. His implication was clear and Mildred found herself taking a strong dislike to the giant beside her.
“Might be more than one reason,” she said pointedly. “So, you want to stop being interested in things that aren’t your concern and show me what I want to know?”
Elias nodded and began to lead her around the pens and the area covered by the livestock farm. Sensing the guarded hostility in her stance, he changed his tone and was serious as he gave her a full report of the livestock farming activities. When he had finished, and they had come full circle, he excused himself, saying that he had to carry on with his allotted task. It was only then that a certain amount of sarcasm filtered through into his voice, causing Mildred to watch his back with a degree of skepticism as he turned and walked away.
Something told her that his anger and dislike of Markos had been turned on her, as well. There was something about the giant that made her wary, but it wasn’t anything that she could pin down exactly, which made it all the more unsettling.
Mildred stood watching him for a moment, then turned and walked back toward the ville. To return to the baron’s quarters and Sineta, she had to walk through the housing on the edge of the ville. At this time of day—it was now midmorning—this part of the ville was deserted, the populous being either occupied at the center, the beach, the farms, or out hunting. It was quiet, and Mildred walked freely, pondering what role Elias played in the drama of Pilatu. She was aware that he was Markos’s rival for Sineta’s hand, and why Barras had made him such; she also knew that the baron’s daughter didn’t trust him. To what lengths would he go to gain power now that the Pilatans were to move to the whitelands, particularly in view of his rival Markos’s own opinions?