"What did Jaryd do?" she asked Sofy quietly, past the lump in her throat.
"An old Goeren-yai groundsman saw the murder!" Sofy whispered, as if scared the cold stones would overhear. "He found and told Jaryd before they could lead him into a trap and Jaryd went berserk! He killed the heir to Family Wyshal, whom I gather used to be an old friend of his… and he killed another man I don't know, and wounded three more before they overpowered him! I think Damon was there, I haven't been able to find out exactly, but someone found out what was happening and stopped them from killing Jaryd… some maids said it was Damon, but others disagree, and I can't find Damon anywhere! Sasha, I'm really scared… you don't think he'd be in any trouble, do you?"
"I don't know," Sasha said quietly. "But if the Great Lord of Tyree is suddenly dead, that's very convenient."
"Yes I know, isn't it just!" Sofy exclaimed, nodding vigorously. "The healers said he should have lasted several more moons at least!"
"The lords of Tyree must have asked Koenyg and father for permission," Sasha said heavily. She put both hands in her hair, as if to try and hold her thoughts in order with that pressure alone. "They caved in. Or they agreed. Just like they agreed to let the Hadryn attack the Udalyn, and like Koenyg arranged to have Krayliss killed. The king finally needs the great lords for something, and the great lords demand all their dues paid at once, a full, accumulated century of them… all save the Great Lord of Tyree, who suddenly became a liability, thanks to his stubborn, brave, naive fool of a son."
She turned away and stared at the bleak wall of her cell. All for a stupid holy war for a faith half of Lenayin didn't even belong to. And all because her poor, beloved pagans really were a squabbling rabble, just like the nobles claimed. Poor Jaryd. Poor, brave fool. Even if he'd known what was coming, would he have changed his course? Perhaps… but also, perhaps not. Crazy man. He was almost Goeren-yai in that. A stubbornness almost worthy of Krayliss. Or Krystoff. Or herself. All these crazy Lenays, all bent on selfdestruction, and all for what? Why did they do it? Why hadn't any of them changed course when they'd had the chance?
Maybe this was what Kessligh had tried to tell her. Had struggled to drum into her thick skull, from the moment it was hard enough for him to rattle with a stanch. Beliefs are dangerous, Sasha. Be very careful what you believe in. Kessligh was gone now, headed for Petrodor. She'd cursed him for a disloyal traitor. But look at her now. Look at Krayliss. Look at Krystoff. Look at Jaryd. They'd all had the choice between pragmatism and ideals. Kessligh had taken the pragmatic option, whatever the emotional pain it cost him. She'd done what she'd always done and led with her heart instead of her head… and had ended up here.
Was this the culmination of Kessligh's last great lesson? He'd struggled to contain Krystoff's wilder impulses, but her crazy brother had alienated the north and the hardline Verenthanes, and lost his life for it. Had Krystoff in his last moments realised how he'd been betrayed, when the Cherrovan warparty had thundered down from the hills in far greater numbers than Hadryn information had led him to believe? Would she finally realise the truth of this lesson also, after the sentence at her trial had been passed, and the axe was finally about to drop? At least, she thought despairingly, she'd be in plentiful company. But that was no comfort at all.
"I hate him," said Sofy, with sudden venom. "I hate Koenyg. It's all a game to him, like a lagand contest. He wants to win, he doesn't care who gets killed."
"Father is king," Sasha reminded her. Sofy's vehemence surprised her. She wasn't sure she could remember Sofy ever saying that she hated anyone, let alone family. "The responsibility is his."
"You've seen him!" Sofy protested, anger in her dark eyes. "He's like a man lost in a storm, in a world he does not comprehend any more! When he had eyes to see for himself, when the world made sense to him, he held the reins like a true king and everyone bowed to his wisdom. But now he's a blind man, groping for support in the dark, and Koenyg is the one holding his right arm. Of course father should be wiser and stronger, but the fault is Koenyg's! Koenyg should guide better, he shouldn't be so… so…"
To Sasha's consternation, Sofy's anger began to crumple into tears. She clutched her sister's hand more tightly through the bars with increasing concern. "Sofy? Sofy, what's wrong? What did Koenyg do?"
Sofy looked away, a hand to her mouth, trying to stop her lip from trembling. She took a shuddering breath. "I found out…" she began, and lost control of her voice once more. Tears flowed down her cheeks.
Sasha's concern turned to dawning fear. Koenyg had devious plans that involved Sofy? "What did you find out, Sofy?"
Sofy gasped, trying to gain control. She managed it finally, wiping her cheeks. "I found out the real reason why the Larosa are here," she said weakly. Her eyes focused on their clasped hands. "I
… I overheard… or no, I didn't overhear, I spied. I heard them talking… oh, Sasha, I'm so sorry I snapped at you before. You were right about the Larosa-Duke Stefhan is a lying, conniving, murderous
…"
Sasha tightened her grip on Sofy's hands. "What did you find out?"
"They… they were talking about some girl, like two men sizing up a cow before the slaughter, and… and talking about marriage, and at first I thought "they must be speaking of Alythia," since she's the one getting married… but then they made reference to this girl being the youngest, and they said how immature she is, and how stupid, and how absolutely foul it would be for the heir of the Larosan king to marry her…"
Sasha stared in dawning horror, as it all, suddenly, made sense. "Oh no," was all she could say.
Sofy saw her expression, and the control crumpled once more. "Koenyg wants me to marry a bloody-handed tyrant, Sasha," she burst out all at once, "and Father must have agreed to it, and I'm still only eighteen, and I'm so scared because I don't want to go!"
She sobbed uncontrollably, her head bowed against the bars. Sasha tried to hold her with her hands through the bars, but it was impossible. She felt utterly, desolately cold. She had killed Lenays upon the fields before Baen-Tar and found little regret for it. Now, she felt entirely certain that if one of them had been her brother Koenyg, her regret would have been even less. Damn him to the deepest and hottest of his precious Verenthane hells. For the next time they met upon the field of battle with blades drawn, surely only one of them would walk away alive.
She awoke with a start, lying on the hard boards, and stared at the light that danced across the stone ceiling. The dream had been of Krystoff. She'd fallen off her pony. He'd been laughing at her. She'd tried to climb back on, but the pony had somehow become Peg and was far too tall for her little legs to reach the stirrup. Krystoff had galloped off, and somehow she'd managed to get up and gallop after him. And had found herself in a broad, wide valley with steep sides, cultivated lands and a wide, beautiful river that gleamed beneath the light of a full, silver moon.
From further up the hall, there came a scuffing, echoing noise. Then a clank of keys and muttering voices. Sasha sat up quickly, feet to the floor. The keys rattled some more, then the squeal of the gate opening. Several pairs of feet approached. She had no idea what time of night it was, or even if it was still night. But there would only be more than one guard if she were being moved from her cell.
Three men appeared, and none of them looked like guards. The leader held a flickering lamp which failed to illuminate his face beneath the shadowing hood. He handed the lamp to his companion and fumbled with a ring of keys, as his two companions took wary stances on either side. They appeared to be armed beneath their cloaks, and looked to be expecting trouble.
Sasha got to her feet in alarm, feeling naked without her weapons. A vigilante group come to murder her? Northerners seeking revenge? But how would they get through the guards without her having heard the sounds of battle?
"Who are you?" she asked, thinking furiously.
The leader, to her further surprise, appeared to be struggling to find the right key. He tried one, then another
, muttering to himself when they did not fit. As his head bowed, some long hair spilled from within the hood. Not a northerner, then. "Patience, Princess, patience," he said, evidently through gritted teeth. The voice seemed familiar.
Finally, a key fit, and turned with a squeal of rusted mechanism. He took the lamp back from his companion, pushed the prison gate inward and threw back his hood. Long, partly braided red hair fell clear in the light, and familiar, roughened features… and Sasha blinked.
"Teriyan?" she exclaimed. Her old friend grinned, appearing to find her astonishment amusing. "What the hells are you up to?"
"Insurrection," he said shortly, and stood aside. "Come, let's go." Sasha stood frozen where she was. "Come on!" Teriyan said impatiently. "I'll explain on the way, there's no time to waste gawking."
Sasha went, having little other choice, and Teriyan placed a hand on her back and ushered her up the hall. The other two men followed. "What's going on?" Sasha demanded, keeping her voice tow as they passed empty cell after cold, empty cell.
"Goeren-yai in these parts are having a little disagreement with your father," Teriyan said, in a similarly low voice. "It's all organised, nothing for you to worry about."
Somehow, Sasha did not find that reassuring in the slightest. "What kind of disagreement?" she retorted. "Organised by whom?" They climbed several steps and stepped through the open metal gate. Teriyan paused to lock it again behind them. The lamp threw wavering light up the length of the dank, gloomy hallway ahead, and revealed it deserted.
"A few friends," Teriyan said vaguely.
"How did you get past the guards?" Sasha demanded, growing angry at the lack of information. She rounded to face him as they strode, but he grabbed her arm and pulled her onward. "What are you up to?"
"Don't the serrin say patience is a virtue?" Teriyan retorted. "Why don't you show a little and shut up for a moment?"
"Great," Sasha exclaimed beneath her breath. "The next time you say that you'll explain on the way, don't wonder why I won't believe you."
They climbed a longer flight of stone steps and emerged into a guardroom holding another six cloaked figures. Seated on the floor in one corner, tied and gagged, were four prison guards. Not very many, it occurred to her. One of the cloaked figures approached to hand her her weapons.
"Andreyis?" she recognised, as there was more light to penetrate the shadows here. The young man looked extremely apprehensive. Sasha took her blade, secure in its scabbard, and shrugged off her cloak to begin fastening it to the bandoleer at her back. "What's going on?"
Andreyis looked to Teriyan and back in confusion. "He didn't tell you?"
"No damn time, I tell you," Teriyan growled. He, and all the men, seemed to be expecting discovery at any moment. "She'll just want to argue, let's move fast and argue later."
"I'll stand here and argue about what you're not telling me!" Sasha exclaimed, finishing with her scabbard and bending to strap the knife to her ankle. "I'm not going anywhere until I know what kind of hare-brained scheme you've gone and hatched without my…
"There," Teriyan said to Andreyis in exasperation, "I told you, didn't l?"
"We're riding to the Udalyn!" Andreyis said breathlessly. "We're riding to save them from the Hadryn!"
Sasha stared at him, aghast. "Just like that?"
"No, not just like that!" Teriyan said sharply. "You think we're stupid? It's been planned, girl! The only thing we didn't count on was you being stupid enough to get caught in Koenyg's damn charge…"
"Planned? What's been planned? How many men?"
"Lots," Teriyan said grimly.
Sasha stared, her head spinning. How could this have happened without her knowledge? How could Teriyan be involved? He was a leather worker and town senior in Baerlyn, what in the world would he have to do with some Goeren-yai plot to rescue the Udalyn?
She looked at Andreyis. He nodded, anxiously. "Lots of men, Sasha," he confirmed. "The Falcon Guard, for starters. They said if we got Master Jaryd out, they'd come."
There was a flickering light emerging from another passageway, and then three men appeared, two Goeren-yai flanking a limping wreck that had once been a handsome lordling. Jaryd had no sling for his arm, the left forearm bound only with dirty bandages enfolding a pair of short splints. His torn pants revealed bloody bandages about his left thigh. His face was mottled with bruising, one eye entirely closed, his lips swollen and covered with dried blood and grime. His hair was a mess and there was a bloody sword in his hand.
Teriyan stared at the sword, then at Jaryd's two rescuers. "What the hells happened?" he said sharply.
The rescuers looked uncomfortable. "There were two Tyree lordlings posted guard. We overpowered them. We… he asked for a sword, we didn't think he'd just…"
"Oh great," Teriyan said in exasperation. "So what was a great and righteous rescue is now the murder of innocent Tyree lordlings! That'll help. Both of them?"
"Just one," Jaryd rasped. Sasha did not recognise the voice. His good eye was cold, emotionless. "Mykel Mellat. I told him I'd kill him. He didn't believe me. He thought it was funny. Isn't laughing now, is he?"
"Now look, Master Verenthane," Teriyan growled, "I only agreed to drag you out of this place because your guardsmen demanded it and we need 'em. You're going to put that damn sword away and shut your damn mouth, and…"
Jaryd raised his blade at Teriyan, an awkward, one-armed, one-legged stance. "I'm not taking orders from you. Understand?"
Teriyan snorted, not even bothering to draw his own blade. "What are you going to do, hop after me?"
Sasha stepped between them. "Jaryd." Staring past the point of his blade. "I'm sorry about Tarryn. I lost a brother too. I know what it's like."
"Your brother was a prince, in armour, on a horse, with a blade in his hand. Mine was a little boy with a knife." There was emotion in his good eye now, and his speech, past swollen lips, was thick with fury. "I'm not going on your damn crusade. I've men to kill."
"In that condition."
"Aye," Jaryd muttered, lowering the blade. "In this condition."
"You're Commander of the Falcon Guard," Sasha said harshly. "They've asked for you to lead them. Had they not, you would not be free."
"I resign."
"Then you have no honour."
Jaryd's good eye blazed. "They murdered my little brother! Men I called my friends! Men I grew up with, who professed their loyalty and friendship to my face! And you accuse me of dishonour?"
"To meet dishonour with dishonour is to wash down a meal of corruption with a mouthful of ashes." The Goeren-yai men present had heard that line before. Jaryd, Sasha suspected, had not. "That's a quote from Tullamayne, the greatest Goeren-yai storyteller."
"I know who Tullamayne is." Sullenly.
"He was Udalyn," Sasha continued, forcefully. "We ride to save the Udalyn, before they are wiped out entirely. Imagine thousands of tragedies, Jaryd, each as great as you losing Tarryn. Many thousands. Your men asked for you, men who are vastly more experienced and who could probably manage very well without you. Didn't they?"
She looked askance at Teriyan. Teriyan nodded. "They say that with your father dead," he said, "you're the Great Lord of Tyree. They won't accept whoever the lords appoint, not after what they did. They won't be a party to that dishonour. That's what they said, even the Verenthanes."
Jaryd stared at the flagstones. Dirty hair fell about his brow, his battered face shadowed in the flickering lamplight. "If it's revenge you want," Sasha continued, "think about how many more of them you could kill if you waited until you were healthy. With patience, your revenge could be greater."
"You think you'll survive this?" Jaryd said bitterly. "Who'll join you? The Goeren-yai have never united for anything. You'll be smashed, and me with you. Better that I kill who I can now, before they realise I've escaped."
"And alert them to that fact before we're away?" Teriyan retorted. "I'll put you back in your cell first."
Jaryd stared at the
flagstones for a moment. Then he snorted, with no real emotion. "Fine. Have it your way."
"Sword away," Teriyan commanded. "Hood up, keep your head down, and not a sound." Jaryd did so, without concern. Little seemed to bother him, not death, nor slaughter. Sasha feared for him.
They were walking from the dungeons when Sasha realised that somehow, she'd begun arguing for precisely the thing she had been arguing against. Lead an army to the Udalyn Valley? Her? In defiance of her father, to say nothing of Koenyg? But then… her mind began to accelerate, like a lazy horse building to a canter. What forces would Koenyg have if the Falcon Guard and some of the Black Hammers had left? Nearly half of the Hammers were Goeren-yai… and half the Royal Guard, also. Would some of the Royal Guard come? Would many of their Verenthane comrades? Was it even imaginable that she, the hot-tempered, troublemaking little girl in Krystoff's shadow, would for a time at least be commanding a greater army than the king or Koenyg would have available? From dreaming in her prison cell to this. It was overwhelming.
"Why in all the hells didn't anyone tell me?" she fumed in sudden temper, as she struggled to grasp this new reality. The dank passage from the guardhouse gave way to stairs, long and winding. She took them slowly, lest Jaryd be left behind. "What am I, just a piece to be moved upon some lowlands boardgame?"
"You," Teriyan said firmly, and with the edge of a man about to lose patience, "were our last hope of not having to do this. Do you think for a moment that any man here would willingly ride against the king's orders? We hoped you could persuade him. You needed to be convinced it was the only option for that to have any chance of working. We're all sorry if you feel deceived, but damn it, girl, it was the only way! Now, do you want to save the Udalyn or not?"
Sasha stared at him. Familiar features, a face from her childhood, since the age of eight, anyhow. A man she'd grown up with. He did not belong here, in this world. Certainly Andreyis did not. They were from her other world, with Kessligh, out in the Lenay wilds. Or perhaps, it occurred to her, it was she who didn't belong here. Confusion threatened.
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