It was the same Sofy Lenayin, Jaryd decided, she'd just grown up a bit. She could still talk endlessly without prompting, and her eyes and voice would sparkle at every point of fascination, which with Sofy meant several times a sentence. And yet, it seemed there was something different about her manner, even if her character remained unchanged.
“Good spirits,” Lynette exclaimed, her eyes wide, “you're probably the only person in Lenayin who'd dare defy Prince Koenyg!”
“Someone has to,” Sofy said cheerfully. “And he's not so scary really. Lenay people just have this way of building everyone into a legend, good or bad. Koenyg's just Koenyg and, however annoying, he's still my brother.”
Doubt, Jaryd realised. Sofy's character was the same as he recalled, but she was missing something, and that something was doubt. The girl he remembered from the ride north had been quiet and uncertain, her eyes darting, worried that she was making an inconvenience of herself simply by being there…which she was. But that girl had also ridden in a rebellion, slept on hard ground, shared meals with warriors, cared for her horse, minded a pair of headstrong Udalyn children, learned as much as she could of a forbidden language, and tended the grievously wounded upon the field of battle. She'd also risked death, defied her father, drunk wine and had even got her hands dirty in a Udalyn garden. Such experiences might change a girl, even a princess. They had certainly changed some men.
“Highness,” said Jaryd, drawing her attention. She met his gaze, then lowered her eyes for the briefest moment. The same, uncertain flicker. Then back again, with firmer resolve as princessly dignity reasserted itself. It disappointed him that she should fall back on form with him of all people. “Why are you here? Koenyg would never have let you ride here without guard. In fact, I can't imagine him allowing you to ride here at all.”
Her eyes darted away again, and he knew he'd hit the peg on the head. “I'm tired of doing everything he tells me,” she said churlishly, suddenly an eighteen-year-old again. “To say nothing of father. I've hardly seen father since the Udalyn ride. Some of us thought maybe he would assert himself more, but no, he's retreated into the temple and Koenyg seems to handle even more affairs now than he did before. I know I'm not the only one unhappy about it.”
Jaryd had often been accused of not being very bright in lordly politics, he'd hated all that pointless, puffing sophistry, and hadn't understood why people couldn't just talk straight to each other. But he thought, just maybe, he could see where this was heading.
“Did you discover something?” he asked. “Something about me?” Sofy met his gaze, sombrely, chewing slowly. “Sofy, what are they up to?”
Sofy swallowed and sipped her wine. She took a second, larger gulp, and stared into the fire. “Jaryd,” she said then, “I hear lots of things. It was always just fun before. People like me, and I've always loved gossip, I can't help it. Only recently have I started to realise what power it gives me…and how worrying that power is for someone like Koenyg. He's been worried about my love of gossip for years, when I thought it was all just a game…” she shook her head in disbelief. “Seriously, I can't believe I've been such a naive little girl.
“There was a lot of talk after your father died.” She met his gaze firmly once more. “They need Tyree, Jaryd. The lords. The rebellion was strongest in Taneryn, Valhanan and Tyree…and Tyree is central, wealthy and close to Baen-Tar.”
“And most of Lenayin's bread is made there, I know,” said Jaryd impatiently. Maybe Sofy thought he was stupid too. “I didn't spend my whole life as Great Lord-in-Waiting ignoring everything important about my own province, I do know a few things.”
“I didn't mean-”
“What are they up to, Sofy? Just tell me straight.” He said it hard and blunt. Sofy looked somewhat crestfallen at his response. Perhaps she truly hadn't meant it like that. Jaryd told himself firmly that he didn't care, even as his heart told him he did.
“Well,” she said, gathering herself, “there's a big debate amongst the Tyree lords. Some say Family Nyvar's removal was poorly done, because it's set a precedent. Many are quite upset, and not just in Tyree either. They're all suddenly watching their backs and double-checking their alliances, just to be certain their own family is not the next one dissolved by ancient clan-law.
“That debate is making Arastyn nervous. I hear he means you dead, Jaryd.” Her gaze was concerned. “I've heard rumours of hired assassins and all kinds of things. The longer you remain alive, the more you fuel the debate and ensure no one forgets what's been done.”
Jaryd smiled, humourlessly. “You're a day late.”
Sofy frowned at him, uncomprehending.
“Three men dressed as Torovan merchants tried to shoot Jaryd with a crossbow at a wedding yesterday,” Lynette explained. Sofy's hand went to her mouth. “Jaryd killed one and captured another, but the third got away. Men are searching for him now.”
“So if you rode all this way to warn me that the new Great Lord of Tyree was trying to kill me,” said Jaryd, “I thank you for the concern, but I'm already aware.” Sofy took another breath, and did not reply immediately.
“That's not the only reason you rode, is it? Tell me.”
“Your brother Wyndal,” Sofy said bluntly, looking him straight in the eyes. “Arastyn means to have him killed too.”
Sasha awoke at dawn, hearing guards out in the hall and men talking outside beneath the window. Still she was exhausted, and knew she'd had hardly any sleep.
“Sleep,” Errollyn murmured alongside. “The house is quiet. There is no hostility here.” He sounded so certain. He had no reason to trust Duke Rochel, nor her relationship with him, and yet he lay on his back, eyes closed, seeming to know that she was awake without looking.
How do you know? she wanted to ask. Who are you? And why do I feel so safe, with you lying at my side?
Sasha awoke again to find the day bright and sunny beyond the window shutters. The bed beside her was empty. Furthermore, her robe was open, and she was naked beneath. No doubt Errollyn had had an eyeful. The thought did not displease her.
She crawled over and peered through the strange shutters-thin wooden slats that opened and closed when one pulled on a string. She'd never seen their like before. Beyond, the broad gardens of Pazira House glowed in brilliant, multiple shades of green and the lake reflected sun and blue sky.
Sasha stretched, and ignored her weariness. There was nothing like a close brush with death to convince a fighter to work on her condition and technique, no matter the discomfort. Her forearm wound was scabbing over nicely, she noted as she did her taka-dans, and the big, tender lump on the top of her head no longer throbbed without provocation.
Sasha made her way through the house and then out into the bright morning. She walked down to the stables where a boy was shovelling muck from the doorway of a stall. He paused to see her coming, wide-eyed. “Lady Sashandra!”
“Hello Mikel,” Sasha said with a smile. “Did he hurt anyone while I've been gone?”
Mikel nodded vigorously, wiping sweat from his forehead. “He threw off Ralin, but he wasn't hurt bad, just a few bruises. Master Faldini can ride him, but no one else dares.”
Sasha frowned. “Master Faldini?”
“The Earl of Shashti, M'Lady. He's Captain of the Pazira Guard; for now, anyhow.”
Of course, Sasha realised, Duke Rochel had brought a good five hundred men or more to stay in Cochindel, the town on whose outskirts Pazira House lay. Pazira families owned most of Cochindel, Sasha understood, and the Pazira Guard consisted of earls and their families, as well as regular, professional soldiers. Beneath them, each province could muster militia from peasants and small landholders. Those would only be raised when the war was imminent. Their quality was not much compared to Lenay militia or regulars, but still, one did not say so too loudly in these parts.
Each of the Torovan dukes had brought forces with him to this present gathering and those forces were now barracked around Petrodor wherever the dukes
held ownership. It seemed like a lot of soldiers for some simple meetings, but then this was Petrodor and paranoia spread worse than a Riverside cough.
“Is Master Faldini a good horseman?” Sasha asked. She didn't like the idea of some man she'd never met riding Peg. In fact, she didn't particularly like anyone else riding Peg. As luck would have it, neither did Peg.
“Some say he's the best horseman in Pazira,” said Mikel. Further ahead, there was a loud familiar whinny, then a crash. Peg had heard her.
Sasha saw a huge black head peering over the gate, a muscular chest shoving hard against the barrier. She hugged Peg, and her enormous, petulant warhorse snorted big, horse-smelling breaths all over her. “Oh here, look,” she said, fishing some breakfast fruit from her pocket. But Peg seemed less interested in the fruit than in her. He pushed at Sasha with his nose, with force enough to jolt her backward, and sniffed at her hair. Sasha found she had tears in her eyes. “You never realised you loved me until I left you for a while, did you?”
She rode him out across the mounting yard and through the open gate onto a worn track beyond the walls of Pazira House. Immediately opposite was Cochindel Lake, its banks thick with reeds, willows and waterside bush. Sasha took off along a track to the right, which headed around the lake.
On the far side of the lake, the trail ran into thick trees and she rode through dappled shade. Some of the broad leaves were beginning to change colour, adding a tinge of yellow and red to the green. It was a distinct change from Lenayin's pine forests, but it was beautiful, even at speed.
Before the forest ended, she passed another rider from the duke's stables, and gave a wave as she took his lead. Now heading back around the far side of the lake, the vast, high slope of Backside rose up before her. It was green at the base, but that soon disappeared as the hill grew higher and buildings took over. Atop the high ridge, against the bright blue sky, she could make out the small shapes of great mansions. Beyond them, unseen, lay the Sharaal Sea.
Approaching now on the right, as the trail turned for home, was the village of Cochindel, a tight cluster of brownstone walls and red tile roofs. There were folk out tending the fields where crops grew thick. In one, a harvest was underway and several villagers waved as she passed. The Cochindel temple spire soared high above, a beautiful structure of simple stone. Such lovely buildings, the Verenthanes created. It made her sad.
She returned to Duke Rochel's stables and set Peg loose in a paddock. Sasha removed the sword from her back and sat on a bench beneath a tree, facing the horses. Peg did not stray far, grazing happily in the sunlight, and looking up at her occasionally.
Movement at the stables caught her eye-some new horses mustered in the mounting yard. Nearer, a lithe figure was walking, long-legged in pants, with a broad-brimmed hat on her head. She seemed to see Sasha and broke into an easy jog. Only then did Sasha recognise Rhillian.
Rhillian embraced her with evident delight. “Sasha! I was worried, no one knew of you!”
“You've news of the others?” Sasha pressed, pulling back to look Rhillian in the face. At such close range, Rhillian's brilliant eyes sent a chill up Sasha's spine.
“I've heard news this morning,” said Rhillian, “they were speaking of perhaps fifteen missing from Kessligh's party, with you and Errollyn amongst them-”
“Is Kessligh well?”
“Oh yes.”
Sasha gasped with relief. She'd never truly doubted it, but still…Rhillian smiled, hands on her friend's shoulders. “I haven't seen him, but I'm told he's fine. I don't know much more, I've been busy with other matters.”
“Errollyn's fine too,” Sasha assured her. “We were separated from the main group, he's-”
“I know,” said Rhillian. “He joined us this morning while you were asleep.”
“Joined you? Joined you where?”
“Cochindel.” Rhillian pointed back past the stables toward the town. “We had a meeting there. Errollyn's arrival was a most pleasant surprise.”
Sasha blinked at her. “You…a meeting?” Then she realised. “With Duke Rochel?” Rhillian nodded. “My word. He does get around, doesn't he?”
“It appears. Come, let's sit…you still look exhausted, Sasha. And your eye is swelling.”
Sasha put a hand to her temple, feeling the light swelling there. “I've had worse.” They sat together on the bench. “I ought to be jealous,” Sasha said wryly. “I'd thought I was the only woman the duke was two-timing with.”
“In Petrodor today, almost everyone is unfaithful. I've met with numerous folk who would deny knowing me on their mother's grave. The duke seems a good man, in his way. He wants no part of this war, that's certain. All that remains to be seen is whether he feels he has the option to say no. The ramifications for his province and his family could be dire.”
“I know,” said Sasha, gazing across the paddock. “He does not lack courage, to flaunt his relations with us so openly. Both of us. Surely word has spread.”
“He keeps the patachis guessing,” Rhillian agreed. “The patachis are strong collectively, but know better than most that such collectivity is an illusion. Individually, they fear Saalshen, and they fear the Nasi-Keth even more. By announcing his relations with both, Duke Rochel gives the patachis more reason to fear him. It's all a game, Sasha. For now, it suits all sides to maintain an equal balance of fear. But when the time for balancing ends, and the final act is made, be certain you know where you stand, and who stands with you.”
More horses arrived at the mounting yard. Soldiers, by the look of them, with broad hats and gleaming buckles.
“Sasha,” Rhillian ventured, a little cautiously, “Kessligh's position is seriously weakened. He meant this strike in Riverside to bolster his position within the Nasi-Keth and unite them behind him. Now it's failed. It seems that Alaine is now the strongest of the Nasi-Keth leaders, and-”
“Don't bet on it,” Sasha said darkly.
Rhillian sighed. “I try only to be realistic, Sasha. Alaine is friendly enough to Saalshen, perhaps it would be better for the Nasi-Keth to unite behind his leadership, if anyone's.”
“Aye, you'd like that, wouldn't you?” Sasha said with temper. “You've been trying to split us from the start, play Kessligh against Alaine and Gerrold…”
“No, Sasha, that's not it at all…”
“Some will say it was you that betrayed us in Riverside. We didn't tell you everything, but the talmaad knew enough.”
Rhillian stared at her, her emerald eyes intent. “Do you seriously think that I would?” Her voice was hard.
Sasha shifted uncomfortably. “Not you, personally. But the talmaad…Rhillian, you've said yourself this is a battle you will do anything to win!”
“I never said that,” Rhillian said shortly.
“You did! You said that your people's very existence is at risk and that you refuse to fail!”
“Curse this clumsy tongue,” Rhillian muttered. And in Saalsi, “We have our limits, Sasha. I warned only of our determination, not of our cruelty. Trust me that I would never hurt you. Never.”
Sasha just gazed at her, helplessly hypnotised by that emerald stare. “I killed people in Riverside,” she said quietly. “I lost friends. I saw Aiden's head paraded atop a spear.” The intensity vanished from Rhillian's eyes, replaced by shock. “You didn't know.”
“No,” said Rhillian, with sadness. “I'm sorry. Aiden was a lovely man.”
Sasha took a deep breath. “Serrin are so logical, Rhillian. You do not become attached to your arguments and you waste no emotion on your philosophies. It's why you're such a peaceful people; amongst yourselves, at least. But I'm not serrin. And I'm not about to give up on Kessligh, not when it would mean all those people died for nothing…”
“No, Sasha, you misunderstand me.” Rhillian placed a firm hand on Sasha's arm. “Kessligh is a great leader. I disagree with him on some matters, but he is committed to the betterment of all humanity, and I respect that intensely. I wish only that
he would not continue this futile fight amongst the Nasi-Keth, Sasha. If we could only work together, we may stand a chance of ending Torovan involvement in this war entirely.
“Duke Rochel is our friend…or at least he would be, given a chance. Other dukes feel the same. We can split them from the patachis, Sasha. We can prevent this great Torovan alliance from forming. We should not be bickering amongst ourselves as to how we should achieve it, not when we are all truly fighting for the same thing.”
“You want me to persuade him?” Sasha asked incredulously. Her voice was pained. Everything hurt-her body, her head and her heart. Petrodor was too confusing, even for someone raised on fractious Lenay politics.
“No,” said Rhillian. “I want you to think, that's all. Together, Saalshen and the Nasi-Keth are strong. We should not be divided. Think about it, Sasha, that's all I ask. You cannot convince Kessligh of anything if you do not believe it yourself.”
“In my experience,” Sasha said quietly, “he's usually right about most things.”
“He abandoned you in Lenayin,” Rhillian said sombrely. “He thought the Udalyn a lost cause. He thought a rebellion would lead to civil war. And he was wrong.”
“He thought the Udalyn a peripheral cause,” Sasha countered, “not a lost one. He had conflicting priorities.”
“So do we all. So did you. It doesn't make him less wrong. Everyone's allowed to be wrong sometime. He's only human.”
“As you're only serrin,” said Sasha firmly, looking her friend in the eyes.
Rhillian smiled. “I am. But on this, I'm not wrong. I can't afford to be.”
Sasha leaned back on the bench and watched the horses. She felt lost. Rhillian copied her pose, took Sasha's hand in her own, and squeezed.
“That must be Peglyrion,” she said.
“It is.”
“He's every bit as beautiful as you described to me. See the way he stands to keep you in view? See his ear flicking in our direction? That's love.”
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