“Because we were compromised from within,” said Bret, from between what sounded like gritted teeth.
“So you say! How long have we been trying to expand the Nasi-Keth's influence into Riverside? The poor, the hungry and dispossessed are our natural allies, and yet you kill them in their dozens, and set fire to their houses-”
“Rubbish…”
“And now you sit here and declare before us that you have done nothing wrong! Riverside is lost to us now, for years at least…”
“And a great pity,” said someone else, sarcastically, “because you were making such wonderful progress there too. Its inhabitants positively reek of wealth and enlightenment.”
“You make fun,” Alaine retorted, “but thanks to you, now they likely never will!”
“We do what we can for the poor,” said Bret, attempting reason. “The odds against our success are huge, yet we make small progress every year. Not every poor child's blistered feet, nor his mother's hacking cough, is our fault.”
“Normally, yes, I would agree!” said Alaine. “But now, with Kessligh at your helm, you make a bad choice of priorities. The Nasi-Keth has whatever power and support it has in Petrodor thanks to the poor. Most of us are drawn from the ranks of Petrodor's poor. It was the sons of poor families who died in Riverside in this ill-advised attack. They support us because we do good things for them. We give them knowledge, and medicines, and ways to improve their living so they don't get sick. And we defend them from the cruelty of the families.
“That is a wise use of force. That is the only use of force we should contemplate. Not this…this brash, dangerous action against the most lucrative arms shipments of the greatest family in Petrodor! Yes, we should help the serrin to defend the Saalshen Bacosh as best they can, but our first priority should always be to our own!”
“If the Saalshen Bacosh falls,” came a retort, “then Saalshen itself is threatened. If Saalshen falls, the Nasi-Keth shall wither on the vine. We do fight for our own, it's only that your vision is neither broad nor perceptive enough to perceive it!”
“We have neither the strength,” said Alaine, decisively, “nor the strategy to contemplate this course of action. We are many, yet not so many that we can afford to waste man after man against the power of the patachis. Have you seen the forces they gather from the provinces? The dukes swear their loyalty and they command entire armies. If they attack us here, we can defeat them, for we own these streets and alleys and no force can take them from us. But to waste good men on such foolish diversions is pointless!
“Look at the good people we have lost! Galthraite, one of our best swordsmen. Aiden, a fine leader. My friend Bron, the mason. Even Kessligh's own uma, legend though some claimed her to be…if even she cannot survive such folly, what chance do the rest of we mere mortals have?”
“Why, Alaine!” Sasha said loudly. “That's the nicest thing you've yet said about me. Legend? That sounds much nicer than whore, or fool, or pagan barbarian!”
The room stopped, and everyone turned to look. Men she knew, Kessligh's followers, stared in disbelief. One grinned. “Sweet Sadis, girl! I didn't even see you back there!”
Sasha climbed up on the bar and walked across mugs and hands to the thick of the group, her temper at a slow boil. Alaine, further from the bar, stared up in disbelief. “It's nice to know you'll respect me so much more when I'm dead,” she told him.
Nearer the bar, men moved aside to clear a space. And there was Kessligh, risen from his chair, and looking at her with…a look of as great an emotion or relief as she'd ever seen him wear. She struggled to contain her own emotion, and jumped down into the space. And grinned up at her uman. He nearly grinned back, a smile of wry, twisted delight, and took her arms. “You'll be the death of me,” he said, attempting gruffness.
“That seems only fair,” Sasha retorted and hugged him, hard. Kessligh hugged her back, harder. “I'm sorry I'm late, but I got cut off. Yulia is well, Liam is back there…” and she pointed back toward where she'd seen him last, “and our serrin friend Errollyn is also well. Our friend Rodery died with great honour, against formidable odds, and took several of his enemy with him. He shall be remembered with pride.”
Men turned to find Liam and shake his hand, or clap his shoulder. He took it sombrely, with little apparent joy.
“You speak the brave words of a Lenay warrior,” said Alaine as the commotion died. Alaine was a man of memorable appearance and no little charisma. He had shoulder-length black hair in light curls. His nose was big, his cheekbones pronounced, and his eyes were deep and dark beneath prominent brows. On his pointed chin, he wore a black goatee. “Yet it is not for you, Lenay princess, to speak of how our fallen men shall be remembered.”
“Does honour mean nothing to you, Alaine?” Sasha asked sharply. “It certainly meant something to Rodery.”
“Honour means as much to the people of Petrodor as it does to you!” Alaine retorted, dark eyes flashing with anger. “It is not for foreigners to try to tell us what our honour means!”
Sasha recalled her recent conversation with Rhillian in the alley. “A dear friend of mine told me recently that honour, like most human concepts, has no fixed meaning and should thus be distrusted. I say that all human concepts have no fixed meaning, and yet, should we distrust them all, we shall be left with nothing. I am Lenay, yet should you choose to confer Torovan honour upon me, I would be flattered. It would be most enlightened of you, Alaine, to accept my Lenay honour in the same spirit.”
“Oh aye,” said Alaine, imitating her accent, “and would it also be enlightened of me to die for your highland honour? If I'll die for any honour, it shall be for the honour of Petrodor, not for the glory of Lenayin!”
“This solves nothing,” said Kessligh, pulling Sasha back before she could advance on Alaine. “Alaine, you say that as Nasi-Keth our primary loyalty should be to Petrodor.”
“And have always said so!” Alaine said proudly.
“Your argument is sound-your path is indeed a path we could follow.” Kessligh spoke with none of Alaine's loud passion. When Kessligh spoke, each word mattered and men listened intently, whatever their personal persuasion. “Yet Petrodor is no island. Neither is any of the powers of Rhodia. Petrodor's current wealth was granted it, unwittingly perhaps, by Saalshen. Lenayin's current stake in Verenthane politics was inflicted upon it by Petrodor. The Bacosh invaded Saalshen two centuries ago, and Saalshen replied with a considerably more successful invasion. Now, the fates of both Saalshen and the Bacosh are inextricably interwoven.
“The fates of all the powers of Rhodia are likewise interwoven. You state that we should not place the fate of the Saalshen Bacosh, nor of Saalshen herself, above our own fate. Yet you fail to see that these two fates are in fact one, single fate. Indeed, were it not for the occupation of the Saalshen Bacosh, the Nasi-Keth would not have been granted such a safe haven from which to grow and spread across Rhodia-in particular here, to Petrodor. You attempt with your arguments to isolate what cannot be isolated.
“Should a united Verenthane army march against the Saalshen Bacosh, the patachis would strike perhaps their greatest blow against the gravest threat to their own power here in Petrodor-us. They will surely attack on into Saalshen, and the serrin will find themselves with more pressing matters at home than the fate of the Nasi-Keth in Petrodor. Imagine, no more cheap serrin blades. No more medicines. No more friendly advice, and occasional military assistance. No more precious information. Then, Alaine, we should truly be alone, and it would be no good thing at all.”
Alaine shook his head with a grin of disbelief. “You argue just like Gerrold!” he exclaimed, pointing to a man seated upon the other side of the triangle. Gerrold was older, of more than sixty summers, with long white hair and a kindly lined face. “Why not just join with him, should you love your serrin brothers and sisters so kindly? Why pursue this madness against targets that even Gerrold does not support?”
“Gerrold loves the serrin,” K
essligh said calmly, “and the serrin surely love him. He would follow their lead, especially the lead of Rhillian. I say that Rhillian does not know humanity as well as she thinks. She tries to make House Maerler and House Steiner fight, and thinks to side with Maerler. It is the worst thing she can do. If either of the great families actually wins, and wins conclusively, it shall be a disaster for us. Rhillian does not understand that it is not final conclusions that are essential, but a continued balance of power. Such a balance keeps the great houses constrained, too scared of each other to take great risks. But one of the great families, victorious and unconstrained, will have no such hesitation. Maerler would happily lead a Torovan army to Saalshen to slaughter all the serrin it could find, they have no greater love of Rhillian and her cause than Steiner does.”
“Your solution is to do nothing,” said Gerrold, with a helpless shrug. Sasha thought it sad that he and Kessligh should find themselves opposed. “Saalshen have had enough of doing nothing. Rhillian does not trust human politics, and I agree with her. She wishes that Saalshen should finally demonstrate its power, and its willingness to use it.”
“I say we contain them,” said Kessligh. “We play the houses against each other and allow neither to gain the upper hand. We attack their arms shipments and make clear to them that such trade will not be tolerated. We make them stew in their own incapacity and frustration. We show them that we control this city, not they. We give them enough rope and let them hang themselves.”
“Worked wonderfully, didn't it?” said Alaine sarcastically.
“If he weren't endlessly undermined from within,” said Bret, “perhaps it would have.”
“He's all talk,” said a new voice to one side. Sasha looked and saw Liam, pushing his way to the front. His young face was set, his lips thin with determination and anger. “He comes to us from a foreign land with great legends of his warlike deeds, but it's all just talk.” Sasha stared in utter disbelief. “I was there, in Riverside. I was taken in by all his talk. So was my friend Rodery. The whole attack was a disaster. We didn't know where we were going, there was no planning and everything went wrong.
“He tells us that women should take a greater role in the Nasi-Keth, just like his uma! But he chose Yulia to come with us and Yulia can't fight! Her incompetence got Rodery killed! And then we had to protect her, and Kessligh's uma's no damn better; she can't fight a jot either! All the tales they tell about her in the highlands are lies-she might be good in the training courtyard, but in battle she's just another useless girl! And then she tries to blame me for Rodery's death, her and her pet serrin, and-”
Sasha charged him, getting in a solid blow with one fist before she was grabbed and dragged backward. “I'll fucking kill you!” she screamed at Liam, who hung upon the supporting arms of neighbours, clutching his bruised cheek. “You scum-sucking traitor!” As men wrestled her backward, and more men restrained Liam as he tried to come back at her, and the whole room exploded in uproar.
“Right here, you stupid pagan bitch!” Liam yelled.
“A duel!” Sasha yelled, wrestling an arm free to jab a hard finger at him. “I want a duel, right now! I'll show you who's the useless girl, I'll cut your fucking head off!”
Gerrold took station in the space between the combatants, with a cold stare for them both. Sasha gave up struggling, heaving for breath. “You're not in Lenayin here,” he said firmly to Sasha. “There can be no honour duel. We don't do that here.”
“I'll start a new tradition!” Sasha blazed. “He insulted my honour, and I'll have his head!”
“No, you will not!” Gerrold shouted.
“Stupid pagan fool,” someone else remarked.
“I'll have you too!” Sasha shouted, glaring in that direction. “You think I'm no warrior? Prove it, you fucking cowards!”
“Kessligh!” came another shout. “Control your bitch! She's gone mad!”
“Sasha!” Kessligh stepped before her, darkly furious. But his fury, to the mild surprise of that part of her mind that could still think clearly, was not solely for her. “Calm down.” The room quieted somewhat. Sasha calmed, with difficulty, the grip on her arms relaxing a little. “Liam makes allegations without proof,” said Kessligh. Sasha recognised that pose, and that tone. It was a fighting stance, but without the blade yet drawn. Men near him became quiet and careful. They might doubt her abilities, but they knew better than to doubt his. “There must be some recourse.”
“Liam is entitled to his say!” said someone, angrily. “We are the Nasi-Keth and we welcome truth in all its forms, not merely that which you find convenient!”
“All Nasi-Keth are entitled to their say,” Kessligh agreed, “but Liam does not merely voice opinions. He makes allegations. That's different. It is the nature of our truth that allegations must be backed by evidence. My uma merely claims the right to contest these allegations.”
“We don't fight barbarian honour duels amongst the Petrodor Nasi-Keth!” Gerrold insisted crossly. “We're more civilised than that!”
“Aye,” snarled Sasha, “there's no provision for duels because all your enemies are dealt with by a knife from behind in the dark! How civilised.” She was somewhat astonished that Kessligh was defending her. Usually when she lost her temper and caused trouble, he'd give her a whack about the ears, metaphorically or otherwise.
“You work out the best solution,” said Kessligh to those opposite, “because this is presently an impasse. For truth to out, lies must be given their chance to be exposed. Liam's allegations hold no truth until proven, and they can only be proven if challenged. Such is our way.”
“Not this way!” Gerrold insisted.
“Then find another,” said Kessligh firmly. “Liam entered onto this ground of his choosing. He knows Sasha well enough, and Lenay honour. I have lived in Lenayin for thirty of my fifty years. You cannot imagine the gravity of Liam's insult to a warrior of her standard. Sasha's response is truly most restrained. Most Lenays would not even ask for a duel, but would have simply killed him on the spot.”
“Well you're not in Lenayin!” someone shouted. “This is Petrodor and we do things our way!”
“Sasha is my uma.” With an unwavering, deadly stare. “She is Nasi-Keth, and the Nasi-Keth belong to no single city, nor race, nor kingdom. Her truth is her own. Such is our way. Some have accepted her. Liam chose to fight at her side. He placed himself within her truth, by choice. And then, he pissed on it. It was his choice, and so the consequences must also be his. Sasha's origins have naught to do with it. She merely follows her truth. Who disputes?”
“Errollyn,” said Aisha, “you're going to make Rhillian really angry one of these days.” They walked along a narrow lane that wound parallel to South Pier. The rise was growing steeper as they approached Sharptooth, its sheer cliff wall rising straight from the harbour waters. The lane cunningly ducked beneath the foot of a wall, descending and climbing narrow steps, with a view of the harbour beyond waterfront buildings. Errollyn often wondered at the mindset of a people who had built such a clandestine network into their city. And wondered further if they now regretted it, since its takeover by jumped-up paupers and serrin devils.
“Oh come on,” Errollyn replied, “you enjoy making Rhillian angry as much as I do.” They spoke in the customary Petrodor-whisper, Errollyn moving close behind his friend, whose pale-blonde head came barely level with his armpit.
“I'd feel so much more comfortable if I actually believed you didn't enjoy it so much,” Aisha stated, padding lightly down some steps carved into the sandstone cliff. The path now had a wooden fence on one side, Errollyn kept his bow ready and Aisha moved with her blade drawn.
“Patachi Maerler will kill us all at the first opportunity,” said Errollyn.
“All the more reason why you should be with her,” said Aisha. She paused, pressing herself to the rock on their right. They listened. Nothing moved. “Rhillian does actually desire your guidance, Errollyn.” They resumed, cautiously, as the lane rose
once more. “Why don't you want to give it to her?”
“She's ignored it so many times before,” said Errollyn. The entire situation frustrated him. The Nasi-Keth would determine the outcome of events in Petrodor, not Rhillian. He was certain of it. “She did not even see that outcomes in Lenayin would be important.”
“Neither did Kessligh,” Aisha reasoned. “He came here instead.”
“He has not our advantages,” Errollyn replied. “Rhillian does.”
“I didn't go to fight in Lenayin because of that,” said Aisha. “I went because I did not wish to see the Udalyn destroyed in Lenayin. It would have destroyed the entire Lenay equilibrium-the entire balance of cultures, languages and powers. Lenayin has great beauty, and great potential. If the talmaad do not exist to further the interests of beauty in Lenayin, then we do not exist for much.” The lane dropped into an alley between two property walls. “I defied Rhillian then, but I do not doubt her, as such. She is quite brilliant, Errollyn. You should not give up on her.”
“There was a great Torovan painter, a man named Yonaglese…”
“I know Yonaglese,” said Aisha.
“Perhaps a century and a half ago, he painted the ceiling of a big temple in Songel. Serrin who visited at the time said it was a masterpiece. But within ten years, the plaster had begun to crack, and soon, despite efforts to preserve it, the plaster had crumbled entirely and the painting was lost.” They paused at an intersection of alleys and listened. Aisha peered one way and then the other. “Rhillian has masterful strokes, Aisha. But she paints on poor plaster. She has superb detail, yet her broader scope is missing.”
“I understood the analogy the first time,” said Aisha, with a faintly reproachful look. She smiled mischievously. Not an uncommon expression for Aisha. “I think you're just worried for your little dark-eyed beauty.”
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