Tracato

by Joel Shepherd

  She drew her sword. “By whose authority?”

  Swords came out in reply. “The Council of Rhodaan,” said the lieutenant, stony faced. Sasha looked beyond him to Councilman Dhael, now boarding his carriage. Dhael looked her way. He saw, but did nothing. He was an elected member of the Council of Rhodaan. Had he known?

  Dhael’s carriage rattled off.

  “Now lads,” came Kessligh’s voice from Sasha’s back, “your seniors have done you a grave disservice in sending only ten of you.” He came closer, yet Sasha could not hear his staff tapping on the paving. That meant he’d drawn his blade, as no doubt had Errollyn. “I am Kessligh Cronenverdt, and this is Errollyn. If you know our identities, then you’ll know that ten to three are odds greatly in our favour.”

  “You have no authority to defy the order of the Council of Rhodaan,” said the lieutenant. “Besides which, you may wish to reconsider the odds.”

  More Blackboots were emerging from the tavern. Some were putting their hats on, others adjusting their sword belts. They’d been drinking, clearly, and caught off guard.

  “Twenty to three?” Errollyn said in Lenay at Sasha’s side, testing the weight of his blade.

  “You can have the seven on the left,” said Sasha.

  “Oh, generous.”

  “Oh look, you pack of imbeciles,” said Alythia, striding to stand between the groups. “Seriously, why must everyone always draw swords at the slightest provocation?” She drew herself up to her full height before the lieutenant, chin up and chest out. The lieutenant’s eyes dropped, predictably. Sasha nearly laughed.

  “Fear not, my friends,” she said in Lenay, “my sister’s breasts may save us yet.”

  Alythia threw Sasha a nasty look. “Lieutenant,” she said, “I am Princess Alythia Lenayin.”

  “Princess,” said the lieutenant.

  “Yes, Princess! Wedded to Gregan Halmady, and widowed in the War of the King. I have come to Tracato to meet with the Lady Renine, and her son, the young Lord Alfriedo. They shall be expecting me.”

  The lieutenant looked wary. Not a bad ploy at all, Sasha reconsidered. The Renines were the highest rank of nobility in Tracato, direct descendants of the last Rhodaani king. Some Rhodaani feudalists, pursuing the distant dream of a restoration of royal power, called Alfriedo “The Young King.” And now, come treating upon their doorstep, was a princess.

  “One of these days,” said Errollyn in Lenay, “you shall stop underestimating your sister.” Alythia might have heard him, for she seemed to stand a little taller.

  The lieutenant conferred with his men. There was hand waving, and some agitation. Alythia threw Sasha a superior look.

  “Don’t get smug yet,” Sasha told her in Lenay, “there’s still twenty of them.”

  “And vastly less dangerous, without a blade being swung,” Alythia said. “When will you learn?”

  Yells from across the dock interrupted the lieutenant’s arguments. Everyone looked as down a nearby road came running young men with no apparent uniform, save the swords across their backs. But not serrin. Nasi-Keth then. The lieutenant rolled his eyes in exasperation.

  The Nasi-Keth came on with no small amount of hollering and whooping, like boys on their way to a mud fight. As they came closer, Sasha saw that many of them were just that-boys, or teenagers at least, sprinting now with the enthusiasm of those who feared they’d nearly missed an excitement.

  “Kessligh Cronenverdt!” exclaimed the first to arrive. This was a man, not a boy, bald with a red goatee. His blue eyes shone with lively welcome. “I am Reynold Hein of the Tol’rhen, welcome to Tracato!”

  He grasped Kessligh’s hand and shook, ignoring the drawn blade. Other young men skidded in, out of breath and happy.

  “I’m sorry we didn’t get here sooner,” Reynold continued. “Our Ulenshaal predicted the winds and thought it a good chance your boat would arrive this evening, so we waited at the tavern up the road. Its owner is a good friend to Nasi-Keth; there’s not the same unsavoury characters that frequent some other taverns…” He threw a glance at the Blackboots. “But our Dockwatcher strolled off to talk to a pretty girl who works along the way…”

  Catcalls and jeers came from the Nasi-Keth at an unfortunate young man who blushed red and looked at his feet.

  “…and we nearly missed your arrival!”

  “Step away from them!” barked the lieutenant, brandishing his sword. “They are to be detained by order of the Council of Rhodaan!”

  The Nasi-Keth laughed, not even bothering to draw their own weapons. Several danced daringly close to the Blackboots, bare handed, making faces. The Blackboots seemed concerned all the same, weapons ready.

  “Oh, don’t mind them,” said Reynold, “they can barely use those toys they’re holding. I daresay you three could take them all without a sweat, but it’s really better if we don’t have to kill any Blackboots tonight…”

  An infuriated Blackboot lunged at one young man who came too close. The Nasi-Keth backed up, laughing and hooting. The Blackboot’s hat fell off in his lunge. In a flash a Nasi-Keth grabbed it and ran off with his prize, waving it in the air. Several others pursued, wanting to try it on.

  “But I haven’t introduced myself to everyone,” said Reynold, moving on to Sasha. “You must be Sashandra Lenayin! An honour…and Princess Alythia!”

  A flurry of introductions followed, eager young men equally pleased to meet them all. Alythia seemed a little frustrated. She’d been grooming Councilman Dhael throughout the long boat journey, and now he had ridden off. The Blackboots had seemed about to take her to Family Renine, yet the Blackboots now faded back toward the fountain and carriages, plotting their next move. Alythia sought the powerful like a river sought the ocean. Sasha, however, was more pleased with present company.

  The Blackboots returned to their tavern while the Nasi-Keth commandeered a carriage. It became clear, however, that there was not a great distance to walk, and that the Nasi-Keth lads would all be walking. Sasha, Errollyn and Kessligh joined them, Kessligh insisting that his leg was fine over short distances. Alythia rode in the carriage, with three young men valiantly volunteering to accompany her. All three looked quite anxious in her presence, so Sasha did not have much concern for Alythia’s honour.

  “Where do all you lads come from?” Kessligh asked as they walked together up the slope.

  “From all over,” Reynold Hein said proudly. “We are the sons of poor folk and wealthy folk, farmers and land owners, traders, craftsmen, from all of Rhodaan to the north, east, west and south. All come to learn the ways of the Nasi-Keth in the Tol’rhen; it has been thus for two hundred years.”

  “And for far longer than that,” Kessligh agreed.

  “Oh, of course,” Reynold exclaimed, as though delighted to be reminded that he was not talking to someone who knew little of Nasi-Keth history. “The Nasi-Keth have been in Rhodaan for more centuries than we know how to count. We were a persecuted movement for centuries beneath the feudals, and now we flourish. Our greatest regret is that we have not been able to spread our wings beyond the Saalshen Bacosh, into further lands. That is why we have been so excited the last few months, hearing that the renowned Kessligh Cronenverdt had come to Petrodor, and was likely to continue on to Tracato!”

  “The Blackboots back there,” said Sasha, “why did they want us detained?”

  “Some feudalist no doubt finds your presence threatening,” Reynold said dismissively. Despite his baldness, he was a young man…no more than thirty, Sasha guessed. Lean and fit, he moved with the lightness of a fighter. “They squabble a lot. And of course, you’re both Lenay…or Sashandra, at least, and Kessligh is most commonly thought of as Lenay…”

  “I think of myself as Lenay,” Kessligh agreed.

  “And your army currently marches on us from the west,” Reynold continued. Neither Kessligh nor Sasha replied.

  “Anyhow,” Reynold continued, “you are Nasi-Keth, and you cannot help the actions of the Lenay king. You a
re welcome guests of the Tol’rhen in Tracato. Just be warned-not every Rhodaani shall feel the same.”

  “I understand,” said Kessligh. He seemed to walk easily enough with his staff, and the incline was not steep. “What are you all studying?”

  “Us here this evening? I am a junior Ulenshaal myself, I teach history and philosophy. These are some of my students, but not all.”

  Some of the other lads volunteered their areas of learning. There seemed no particular pattern of interests, though philsophy seemed very common. One boy, who could not have been more than fourteen, enthusiastically explained how he was studying the applications of mathematics to stonemasonry. He hoped to become a great builder, and make grand buildings in Tracato and across the Saalshen Bacosh.

  “And in Elisse too one day,” someone suggested, and there were cheers. That turned the conversation to the war in Elisse. General Zulmaher was making great progress, it seemed, though there remained a worry that he would not complete his conquest before the great Larosan and Lenay armies mustered in the west. Some concern was voiced that General Zulmaher was a feudalist, and did not truly wish to liberate Elisse from feudal tyranny. Others argued that it did not matter, so long as Elisse was eliminated as a threat to Rhodaan’s northern border while the Steel faced the oncoming, and far greater, western threat.

  Another young man thought it wonderful that Elisse would soon become the fourth province of the Saalshen Bacosh, the first such expansion since the serrin arrived two centuries before. Sasha recalled what Councilman Dhael had said about imperial ambition, and how some felt it didn’t belong in Rhodaan. None of these young students seemed to agree. Perhaps times were changing.

  The road entered a grand square, with statues twice the size of a man towering before the walls. Lanterns illuminated the figures from below, stone faces aflicker, eyes wise and distant. About the facade walls were arches, and smaller statues adorned high rooftops. Sasha stared about, amazed.

  “Who are these people?”

  “Surely you recognise the lady here?” Reynold said, pointing to a statue of a woman in a flowing robe. She held a book before her, as though in prayer over its pages. From the faint angle of the sculpted cheekbones, Sasha thought the woman must be serrin.

  “Maldereld?” Sasha said dubiously. “But she was a warrior.”

  Reynold nodded. “More renowned to Tracatans as a scholar, and a builder of institutions. The artists most commonly portray her with books or scrolls.”

  Suddenly the air clattered with hooves. Horses burst into the courtyard, men astride wearing jackets and swordbelts that glittered gold and silver in the lantern light. The Nasi-Keth lads stopped, and fell back cautiously, yet no blades were drawn. For an instant, Sasha thought the horsemen might attempt an encirclement, but they reined to a halt not far from the group, and presented no immediate threat save that they blocked the way.

  The lead rider swung down from his saddle. He was a portly man of perhaps middle age, with long hair and a trim beard.

  “Lord Elot!” called Reynold, with little apparent concern. “A nice night for a ride?”

  “Indeed, Master Reynold,” said Lord Elot. “I had heard that you may be in the presence of royalty. This caused us much alarm, for surely little would you know of how to treat a royal lady.”

  “And now you have blocked her path, and delayed her arrival at a meal and a hot bath, which she was surely desiring. Where are your manners, Lord Elot?”

  “You have guests and you have not introduced me,” Elot replied, unfazed. “Where are yours, Master Reynold?”

  “Kessligh Cronenverdt,” said Reynold, indicating Kessligh. “His uma, Sashandra Lenayin. Master Errollyn. And in the carriage, as befits her station, Princess Alythia Lenayin.”

  “Yuan Kessligh,” said Lord Elot, walking to him. “I am Lord Desani Elot, cousin to the Lady Renine.”

  “A pleasure,” said Kessligh, shaking his hand. “My uma, Sashandra.”

  Elot took Sasha’s hand also, but seemed uncertain what to do with it. Sasha was used to that. She escorted the lord back to the carriage, which she guessed was the proper form, and opened the door. Alythia emerged, with no small drama. Elot took a knee.

  “My dear Lord,” said Alythia. “A true pleasure to meet one of the great line of Renine. I have read so much about you.” Sasha knew that it was true. Alythia had done considerable reading over the last few months in Petrodor on the history of Rhodaan. She knew who was in power when the serrin came, who had resisted and perished, who relinquished their feudal powers willingly to help the serrin make a new Rhodaan and who never returned at all from the forests of Saalshen.

  She had also read some small amount on Enora, and had recounted with much shock her findings to Sasha. The example of Enora had frightened many Rhodaani noble families into cooperation with the serrin, and the serrin, perhaps ashamed of the slaughter, had treated those families less harshly as hindsight now suggested that they might have been. The serrin had expected nobility, awkward and antiquated concept that it was, to die a natural death. Instead, it had clung on long enough to rise again with the flourishing wealth of the new Rhodaani nation. Today, noble families were powerful once more, and although their old entitlements were stricken from Rhodaani law, that did not mean as much to some as the enforcers of the new laws believed it should.

  Lord Elot kissed Alythia’s hand. “Princess Alythia. An honour.”

  “Were those your men who tried to abduct us at the docks?” Alythia enquired mildly.

  “A misunderstanding, Your Highness,” he said. “Several of our noblemen heard only that some powerful Lenays were coming to Rhodaan…the men and women of Lenayin are not greatly in favour in Rhodaan at this time, please understand.”

  Alythia inclined her head, gracefully.

  “I hope that they did not cause you too great an inconvenience?” Elot pressed.

  “Not too great,” said Alythia.

  “Your Highness, I am here to offer you an invitation of hospitality, from Family Renine to you. We would be honoured for you to join us, where we can lodge you in the manner to which you are rightly accustomed.”

  Alythia’s gaze flicked to Sasha. Smug.

  “I should be very pleased to accept such a gracious offer,” she said. “Would you be so good as to grant me an escort?”

  “Your Highness, I am most relieved. I had feared our rash noble friends had caused you an offence. I shall escort your carriage personally.”

  He rose, and strode to his horsemen.

  “’Lyth, you’re crazy!” Sasha exclaimed in Lenay. “You’ve no idea who the hells he is!”

  “He is nobility, Sasha,” Alythia said calmly, as though that made everything fine.

  “And you’re the daughter of the man who leads the best warriors in Rhodia into a war against Rhodaan! You don’t think you’d make a wonderful hostage?”

  Alythia did not get angry. Instead, she placed a hand on Sasha’s shoulder. “Sasha, it’s very sweet that you’re concerned for me, but please. You know me. This is what I’m good at. You have your sword, and Kessligh has his high reputation and military mind, and I have the influence of status and royalty. Besides which, if not to make contacts of this sort, why on Earth do you think I came along?”

  “Because in Petrodor you were poor,” Sasha said drily.

  “Exactly,” said Alythia, smiling sweetly. “This is my element, Sasha. I don’t tell you how to fight. Do me the same courtesy, yes?”

  Two

  S OFY LENAYIN GALLOPED ACROSS THE ROLLING HILLS of southern Telesia, and felt that life could not possibly be more wonderful. Everywhere the grass was rising on tall stems that lashed about her horse’s legs, and flowers were blooming, yellow and purple and red across the glorious green sea.

  Ahead, the land rose once more, and Sofy urged Dary faster up the rise. Perhaps she would finally discover a view down into Algrasse, and the Bacosh. But when she arrived, she saw only more hills, and lush, waving grass and flowers, fa
r off to the horizon. The sight made her happy. She did not want this journey to end.

  Further along the shallow ridge there loomed another old fortress, stark, broken walls and piles of fallen stones now overgrown with weeds. She pointed Dary that way and let him run as only a Lenay dussieh could-tirelessly, and with little sign of fatigue. She liked to ride out in front of her guard like this, and pretend she was alone on the plain, just her and her horse, and the wind in her hair. Princess Sofy Lenayin had been truly alone and in charge of her own destiny so very few times in her life.

  Upon reaching the first of the fallen black stones, she reined Dary to a halt and dismounted. Immediately she heard the approach of her guard, four warriors on splendid warhorses, red capes flying, sunlight flashing on silver mail.

  “Highness,” said Lieutenant Tyrel of the Royal Guard, “allow us to search the ruins first before you enter.”

  “Oh, nonsense, Lieutenant!” Sofy protested. “It’s no fun exploring when you’ve already checked everything for me! Besides, these things have been deserted for centuries!”

  “All the same, Highness,” he said, handing her his mount’s halter. “There could be bandits, or scavengers.”

  Tyrel and another man drew their blades and climbed over the stones through a gap in the wall, leaving Sofy minding the horses while the other two guards rode the perimeter. That much, at least, they trusted her with. She was not much of a rider yet, compared to men such as these, but she could mind horses well enough.

  Soon the guardsmen came back to say all was clear. Sofy climbed gingerly over the rocks, still not entirely accustomed to her leather boots and the riding pants she wore beneath her dress. She wished she could discard the dress, but there were too many men around who would find such a thing confronting. Whatever her recent adventures, she remained a princess of Lenayin, and a princess of Lenayin could not in good conscience wear pants alone.

  Within the wall, she found herself in a wide courtyard of lush grass. Rising about, forming a square, were the remains of defensive walls.