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Shepherd,Joel.Sasha:atrialofbloodandsteel/JoelShepherd.p.cm.ISBN978–1–59102–787–4(paperback)ISBN978–1–61592–632–9(e-book)Originallypublished:Australiaand

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Lenayin

Valhanan

Sasha…………………….formerPrincessofLenayinKessligh Cronenverdt……warrior, former CommanderofArmiesPeg………………………Sasha'shorseTerjellyn………………….Kessligh'shorseTeriyan……………………leatherworkerLynette……………………Teriyan'sdaughterJaegar……………………

headmanofBaerlyntownAndreyis…………………Sasha'sfriendLord Kumaryn Tathys……GreatLordofValhananTarynt……………………councilmanofYulevillage

Tyree

Jaryd Nyvar………………heir to Great Lordship ofTyreeLord Aystin Nyvar……….

Jaryd's father, Great Lord ofTyreeCaptain Tyrun………….Commander of Tyree'sFalconGuardLieutenant Reynan Pelyn…..FalconGuardsmanLord Tymeth Pelyn………TyreenobleSergeant Garys………….FalconGuardsmanTarryn……………….Jaryd'syoungerbrotherWyndal………………Jaryd's

brotherLord Redyk……………TyreenobleLord Paramys………….TyreenobleLord Arastyn…………..TyreenobleGalyndry……………..Jaryd'ssisterPyter Pelyn…………….nephewofLordPelynRhyst Angyvar………….Tyreenobleyouth

Baen-Tar

Damon……………….PrinceofLenayinTorvaal Lenayin…………KingofLenayinKrystoff……………….PrinceofLenayin,deceasedKoenyg……………….PrinceofLenayin,heirtothethroneWylfred……………….PrinceofLenayinWyna Telgar……………

Koenyg'swifeSofy………………….PrincessofLenayinMarya…………………Princess of Lenayin, marriedinTorovanPetryna……………….PrincessofLenayin,marriedAlythia……………….PrincessofLenayinMyklas……………….PrinceofLenayinQueen Shenai…………..QueenofLenayin,deceased

Anyse…………………Sofy'smaidArchbishop Dalryn………..Lenayarchbishop

Hadryn

Lord Rashyd Telgar……….Great Lord of Hadryn,deceasedLord Usyn Telgar………….Rashyd Telgar's son, GreatLordofHadrynFarys Varan……………..

HadrynnobleLord Udys Varan………….HadrynnobleHeryd Ansyn…………….HadrynnobleMartyn Ansyn……………Hadrynnoble

Taneryn

Lord Krayliss……………GreatLordofTanerynCaptain Akryd……………Tanerynsoldier

Udalyn

Daryd Yuvenar……………UdalynboyRysha………………….Daryd'syoungersisterEssey…………………..UdalynhorseChief Askar………………Udalynchief

Banneryd

Captain Tyrblanc…………..

Banneryd Black StormcaptainLord Cyan………………..GreatLordofBannerydCorporal Veln……………..BlackStormsoldier

Isfayen

Lord Faras………………..GreatLordofIsfayen

Neysh

Lord Aynsfar………………Neyshnoble,deceasedLord Parabys………………GreatLordofNeysh

Ranash

Lord Rydysh……………….GreatLordofRanash

Bacosh

Duke Stefhan……………….LarosandukeMaster Piet…………………Larosanbard

Saalshen

Rhillian…………………..serrinleaderinPetrodorAisha…………………….

femaleserrinErrollyn…………………..maleserrin,archerTerel……………………..maleserrinTassi……………………..femaleserrin

Others

Jurellyn…………………..

seniorLenayscoutAiden………………….Nasi-Keth from Petrodor,Kessligh'sfriend

HistoricalFigures

Hyathon theWarrior………….. Goeren-yaimythicalheroMarkield…………………..

CherrovanwarlordLeyvaan ofRhodaan…………. LeyvaantheFool,KingofBacoshTharynAskar………………..greatUdalynchieftainEssyn Telgar………………..HadrynchiefSorosLenayin……………….former king, head ofLiberationarmyofoldChaydenLenayin……………. formerking,Soros'sson

Tullamayne…………………Goeren-yaistoryteller

SASHA CIRCLED, a light shiftand slide of soft boots oncompactedearth.Thepointofher wooden stanch markedthecircle'scentre,effortlesslyextended from her two-fistedgrip. Opposite, Teriyan theleather worker matched hermotion, stanch likewise

unwavering, bare armsknotted with hard muscle.Sasha's eyes beheld his formwithout true focus. Shewatched his centre, not theface, nor the feet, norespecially the woodentraining blade in his strong,callousedhands.An intricate tattoo of

flowing black lines rippledupon Teriyan's bicep as hisarm flexed. Thick red hairstirred in a gust of wind,

tangledwhereitfelllongandpartlybraideddownhisback.High above, an eagle called,launched to flight from therow of pines on the northernridgeoverlookingtheBaerlynvalley of central Valhananprovince. The westerly sunwas fading above the ridge,settling among the pines,casting long, loomingshadows. The valley's entirelengthwas alivewith goldenlight,gleamingoff thewood-

shingled roofs of the housesthat lined the central road,and brightening the greenpastures to either side.Nearby,severalyounghorsesfrolicked, an exuberance ofhooves and gleaming manesand tails. From a nearbycircle,therecameaneruptionof yells above the repeatedclashofwoodenblades.Thena striking thud, and a pauseforbreath.Of all of this, Sasha was

aware. And when Teriyan'slunging attack came, shedeflected and countered withtwofast,slashingstrokes,andsmacked her old friend hardacrossthebelly.Teriyan cursed, good-

naturedly, and readjusted theprotective banda that lacedfirmly about his torso.“What'dIdo?”heasked,withthe air of a man long sinceresignedtohisfate.Sasha shrugged, backing

away with a light, balancedpoise. “You attacked,” shesaidsimply.“Girl's gettin’ cute,”

Geldonremarkedfromamidstthecircleofonlookers.Sashaflashed Geldon a grin,twirling her stanch through aseriesofrapidcircles,movinglittlemorethanherwrists.“Always been cute, baker-

man,” she said playfully.Guffaws from the crowd,numberingperhapstwentyon

this late afternoon session.Strongmen all, with braidedhair and calloused hands.Many ears bore the rings ofGoeren-yai manhood, andmany faces the dark inkpatterns of thewakening andthe spirit world. Lenaywarriors all, as fierce andproud as all the lowlandstales, a sight to strike terrorinto the hearts of any whohad cause to fear. And yettheystood,andwatchedwith

great curiosity, as a lithe,cocky, short-haired girl inweave pants and a sheepskinjacket dismantled theformidableswordworkofoneof their best,with littlemoreto show for the effort thansweat.Teriyan exhaled hard, and

repeated his previous move,frowning with consideration.“Bugger it,” he said finally.“That's as good an openingstroke as anyone's got. If

someone has a bettersuggestion,I'mallears.”“Improve,”Tyalremarked.“Kessligh says the low

forehand is a more effectiveopener than the high,” Sashainterrupted as Teriyan gaveTyal a warning stare. “For amanyoursize,anyhow.”“Ah,” Teriyan made a

mock dismissive gesture,“thatKessligh,whatwouldheknow about honestswordwork?Youandhimcan

stick to your sneakysvaalverd. Leave the realfightingtous,girlie.”“Look, do you want to

know how I do it, or not?”Sasha asked in exasperation.There weren't many men inLenayinwhowoulddarecallher“girlie.”Teriyanwasone.Kessligh Cronenverdt, thegreatest swordsman inLenayin and her tutor in farmorethanjustswordworkforthe past twelve years, was

another.Teriyan just looked at her,

a reluctant smile creepingacrossaruggedface.A bell clanged from the

centre of town, midway upthe valley. Stanches lowered,and all commotion about thetraining yard ceased as menturned to look, and listen.Again the bell, echoing offthe steep valley sides, andthenagain, as someonegot agood rhythm on the pulley

rope.“Rack your weapons!”

yelledByorn,thetraininghallproprietor, above the suddencommotionasmenran,bootsthundering up the steps fromthe outside yard to the open,broadfloorboardsoftheinnerhall. “No haste in this hall,respectthecircles!”Despite thehaste,mendid

keeptothedirtpathsbetweentachadarcircles,carefulnottodisturb the carefully laid

stones,northesanctityofthespace within. Sasha movedwith less haste than some,seeinglittlepointinelbowingthrough the crush of youngmen taking the lead. Shewalked instead with Teriyanand Geldon, up the dividingsteps and into the high-ceilinged interior, unlacingherbanda,andtakingtimetoselect her realweapons fromthewooden rackwhere she'dhung them earlier. With

weapons, Kessligh hadinstructed her often, oneneverrushed.Most men did not own

horses and began running upthe trail toward the mainroad.SashafetchedPegfromhis field beside the traininghall, used a stone paddockwall to mount, and gallopedhim in their wake…butbeforeshecouldgoracingtothe lead, she spotted afamiliarbaymarecomingup

theroadtothetraininghall,aslim,red-hairedgirluponherback,waving one-handed forSasha'sattention.Sasha brought Peg to a

halt, and waited. Lynettearrived with a thunder ofswirlingdust and flyinghair,eyes wide within a freckled,pale face. She was pantingandthemare—Chersey—wassweating profusely. Maybeenough for a seven-fold rideatspeed,Sashareckonedwith

a measuring eye, knowingChersey's abilities every bitaswellasPeg's.“Sasha,” Lynette gasped,

“it'sDamon.Damon'shere.”Sasha frowned. “Damon

came to Baerlyn? Withwhat?”“Ithi…thinkit'stheFalcon

Guard.”Shebrushedaraggedhandful of curling red hairfrom her face as a gust ofvalley wind caught it. Herlong dress was pulled well

above her knees, with mostunladylikedecorum,exposingapairofcoarseweaveridingpants beneath. And leatherbootsinthestirrups.“I'mnotsure…I was taking CherseyforarideoutpastSpearman'sRidge when I saw themcoming, so I turned aroundand came back as fast as Icould…Theyhad thebannersout,Sasha,itwasfullarmourandfullcolours!Theylookedmagnificent!”

Sasha'sfrowngrewdeeper.The Falcon Guard had beenlately posted in Baen-Tar.“You didn't speak to them?You don't know why they'rehere?”Lynette shook her head.

“No,Icamestraightbackandtold Jaegar, and he sentsomeonetoringthebell,andthen I came looking foryou…”“Damn it. Lynie, I want

youtogoandgetKessligh—

he went to buy somechickens.”“He'llhearthebellringing,

surely?” Lynette asked inconfusion, as more menmounted nearby, and wentgallopinguptheroad.“Kessligh takes his

chickens very seriously,”Sasha said wryly. “Just tryandhurryhimalongabit.”“I'll try,” said Lynette

doubtfully. Sasha kickedPegwith her heels, and went

racinguptheroadasLynettepulled Chersey about in acircle and followed as bestshecould.Ashortwayalong,Sasha came across Teriyan,Geldon and several others,runningatasteadypace.ShepulledPegtoatrotalongsideandextendedaninvitinghandtoTeriyan.“Come on,” she said,

“council heads should gettherefirst.”“Leave it, girl,” Teriyan

answered without breakingstride. “I still got someprideleft, you know.” Sashascowled.Lynettewent racingpast on Chersey. “Hey,where'dyousendmygirloffto?”“Ask her yourself, if you

ever catch her,” Sashasnorted, and galloped oncemoreuptheroad.The road wove between

paddockfencesandlowstonewalls, catching the full face

of the sun before it vanishedbehindtheridge.She was gaining fast on

twomenaheadasshereachedthemainBaerlyn road.Uponthe wooden verandahsflanking the road, Baerlynfolk had gathered—motherswith their children, elderlyfolkinlightcloaksorknittedshawls, and the men nowwalkingor runningalong theroad's broad edge, keepingthe middle clear for horses.

Peglovedatarget,andpassedthe leading horses in athunderofhooves.The road wound past

Geldon'sbakery,thenpastthetradinghousesandsidealleysleading to warehouses, andthe workshops of jewellers,potters, furniture makers andTeriyan'sownleathershop.Up ahead she saw a

gathering of horses anddismounted men in armourblocking the road, milling

beforethestonefacadeoftheSteltsyn Star, Baerlyn's onlyinn. Heraldsmen heldbanners, gusting now in thelight valley wind, indicatingthat Damon was still in thevicinity.Sasha pulled up beside

severalmenfromthetraininghall and surveyed the scene.Thereappearedtobeaneffortunderway to lead theregiment's horses down theStar'ssidelane,tothestables

and paddocks that stretchedto the southeastern valleywallattherear.Hersearchingeyes found Jaegar, Baerlyn'sheadman, upon the Star'sverandah gesticulating inearnest discussion, thenwaving a thick, tattooed armacross the semiorganisedmass of waiting men andhorses.HespokewithDamon—tall, darkly handsome andnotable by his purple andgreen riding cloak, the gold

clasp at his neck, and thegleaming silver pommel ofhis sword at one hip. Nowtwenty-threesummers,byherreckoning, and seeming tiredanddishevelledfromhisride.All themenhelda respectfuldistance, except the Falconguard captain and a youngmaninlordlyclothes,eagerlysurveying the conversation,whom Sasha did notrecognise.Then the guard captain

turned upon the step andshouted above the snort andstampofhooves,thejangleofarmour and the busydiscussionsofmen, “Inunitsdown the lane! The stablesarealreadyhalffull,fillthemasyoucan, then fill thebarn—it should take another ten!The rest, there's three moreproperties behind the inntoward the valley side, thereshould be enough room inthose barns, if not, move

down and knock on the nextdoor.Be polite, Iwant not ahay bale disturbed withoutpermission, nor a chicken'sfeather plucked, nor a sow'stail pulled. I'll not have thegoodfolkofValhanansayingthe FalconGuardmake poorguests!Tend toyourmounts,then gather back here for agood hot meal on the king'sowncoin!”That got a rousing cheer

fromallpresent.

“Men of Baerlyn!”bellowed Jaegar, with abarrel-chested volume thatsurpassed even the captain.He was a stocky man ofmiddling height but withmassively broad shoulders.Theanglinglightappearedtocatch only one side of hisface, leaving theotherdarklyominous…except that thedarker side was facing thelight.Uponcloser inspection,thespirit-maskofGoeren-yai

manhood revealed its finerintricacies of weaving curls,waves and flourishes.Sunlightglintedon themanyringsinhisears,anduponthesilver chain about his broad,sculpted neck. His long hair,parted cleanly down themiddle, bound down thecentreofhisbackinasingle,leather-tiedbraid.“Those with space

available indoors,please findasergeantorcorporalandsay

so!” Jaegar continued.“There's no need for anymorethanthehorsetenderstospend a night in the cold!Illys, we'd welcome somemusic inside tonight!” TherewasacheerfromtheBaerlyntownfolk who had encircledthe Falcon Guard, in allcuriosity and eagerness tohelp.“And Upwyld with the

ale!” yelled someone fromthe periphery. “Don't forget

the ale!” And that got anenormous cheer fromeveryone, soldiers and localsalike.Jaegar held both calloused

handsskyward toquieten theracket,andthenbellowed,“Itis the honour of Baerlyn toreceive this most welcomevisitation! Three cheers fortheFalconGuard!”“Hoorah!” yelled the

Baerlyners. “Hoorah!Hoorah!”

“Three cheers for MasterJaryd!” with an indication tothe young man beside themon the verandah. Again thecheers. The young man heldup a hand with a cheerfulgrin. Something about theglamorous cut of his clothes,and the self-assured smileonhis lips, made Sasha's breathcatch in her throat. TheFalcon Guard were all fromneighbouring Tyree provinceof central Lenayin. He must

be one of Great LordAystinNyvar of Tyree's sons. NotJaryd Nyvar? Surely thespirits would not be so crueltoher?“AndthreecheersforPrince Damon!” And thosethree cheers, to Sasha's mildsurprise, were loudest of all.Damon, she noted, glanceddown at his riding boots andlooked uncomfortable. Sherepressed an exasperatedsmile.SameoldDamon.“Three cheers for

Baerlyn!” yelled the captain,and the soldiers answeredbackinkind.“Let'smove!”With little more fuss, the

soldiers began filing downthe Star's cobbled side lane.Sasha finally completed herroughheadcount, andarrivedat perhaps eighty men andhorses, their numbersclusteringagoodwayup theroad past the inn. Thestrength of standingcompanies varied from

province to province—in thenorth, the great armouredcavalry companies numberedcloser to a thousand each.The Falcon Guard company,byherreckoning,shouldhaveabout five hundred at fullstrength. Perhaps thiscontingenthadleft inahurryand the others werefollowing.SheleftPeginthecareofa

farmersheknewwell.Damonand theyoungTyree lordling

stood in continuedconversation with Jaegar,now joined by another twoBaerlyn councilmen,similarly tattooed and ringedas Jaegar. Sasha eyed thatcontrast as she approachedunseen, slipping betweensoldier-led horses—theBaerlynmenroughandhardyGoeren-yai warriors. AndDamon tall, clipped andelegantly attired, aVerenthane medallion—the

eight-pointed star—prominently suspended on achainabouthisneck.Rural Goeren-yai and city

Verenthanes. The oldLenayin, and the new. TheGoeren-yai believed in theancient spiritsofLenayhills,theVerenthaneintheforeign,lowlands gods. Sasha wasborn Verenthane, but livedamongst Goeren-yai…andwas raised by Kessligh asNasi-Keth, the followers of

the teachings of far-offSaalshen. She sometimeswondered if she'd donesomething to offend somegods or spirits in a previouslife to have deserved such acomplicated fate. She oftenthought things would be somuchsimplerifshecouldjustchoose one or the other…orthethird.Butnomatterwhichshe chose, her choice wouldoffend countless powerfulpeople.

Sasha thrust the doubtsaside, cleared the gatheringabout the steps, and trottedbrisklyup.Damonsawheratthe last moment andstraightened stiffly. Nearbycommotion abruptly slowed,and conversation paused, aspeopleturnedtolook.“Damon,” said Sasha,

managing a half-genuinesmileasJaegarquicklymadewayforheratopthesteps.“Sashandra,” Damon

replied, similarly ill-at-ease.And then, with meaningfulemphasis, “Sister.” Andspread his arms to embraceher. Sasha returned the hug,the first time she hadembraced her brother innearly a year, by herimmediate reckoning. Fromabouttheverandah,anduponthe road, there was applauseand some cheering. BeneathDamon'sridingclothes,Sashafelt the hard weight of

chainmail, which wassometimesdecorative customfor a travelling prince, andsometimes not. This, sheguessed from the size of thecompany, was not. Theyreleased each other, andDamonputbothglovedhandsupon her shoulders andlookedather.“You're looking well,” he

remarked.Liar, Sasha thought. Little

thoughshe'dseenhimoflate,

she knew well his trueopinion of her appearancethese days. In Baen-Tar, theseat of Lenay kings, theladies all wore dresses, andhairsolongyoucouldtriponit. Some of her wryamusementmusthave shownonherface,forDamonbarelyrepressedasmileofhisown.“You too,” Sasha replied,

and meant it. “What bringsyoutomyhumbletown?”“Well,” said the young

prince with a hard sigh.“Thereinliesthetale.”

“We're still not clear exactlywhathappened,”Damonsaidto the table, his voice raisedto carry above the mealtimeclamour. Changed into aclean shirt beneath apatterned leather vest,covered again by the ridingcloak in regal purple and

green, he looked to Sasha'seyes far more comfortablenow than in the armour. Hisfingers toyed absently withthe wine cup. “We onlyreceived word that GreatLord Rashyd Telgar is dead,and that Great Lord Kraylissisresponsible.”Sashastaredsullenlyatthe

open fire upon the centre ofthe Star'smain floor. Flamesblazed within the stone-linedpit as several kitchen hands

hurried about and rotated thethree sizzling spits. Menclustered at long tablesbetween ceiling supports asBaerlyn youngsters served aswaiters, hurrying back andforth with laden plates andmugsofale.Voices roared in

conversation, and heatradiated from the fire, asmusic and the smell of goodfood filled the confined airbeneaththeStar'slowceiling.

“You're sure it wasKrayliss thatkilledRashyd?”Jaegar pressed from his seatalongside Captain Tyrun,commander of the FalconGuard.TyrunandSashaweresitting on either side ofDamon at the head of thetable. On Sasha's left satTeriyan, widely regarded asJaegar's right-hand man inBaerlyn, due mostly to hisswordsmanship and exploitsin battle. The young Master

Jaryd completed the group,ignoring the breathless staresthat the servinggirls senthisway.Attheendofthetable,achair forKessligh sat empty.If Damon were offended athisabsence,hedidn'tshowit.Probably he knew thatKessligh was Kessligh, anddidashepleased.“I'mnotsureofanything,”

Damon replied to Jaegar,somewhat testily, butrecovered from his outburst

no sooner than it had begun.Same old Damon indeed,Sasha noted sourly. Damontook a breath. “I only knowwhat word reached us inBaen-Tar. The messengersaid his lord was dead andthat revenge must follow.AgainstKrayliss.”Damontookanotherbiteof

hisroast, thencleaneduptheremains of his vegetable raalwith a piece of bread. Thetable exchanged sombre

glances, an oasis of silenceamongst the raucous din.Sashamet no one's gaze andsimply stared at the centralfire. Lord Rashyd was dead,and Hadryn province, thegreatest of Lenayin's threenorthern provinces, was nowwithout its leader. And nowtheFalconGuardwereridingfrom Baen-Tar to takerevenge on Lord Krayliss ofneighbouring Tanerynprovince. It seemed that the

age-old conflict betweenHadryn and Taneryn hadflaredoncemore,withalltheancient, treacherous historythat entailed. Sasha did nottrust herself to speak, lestsome slip of caution unleashtheseethinginhergut.Lenayin had ten provinces

—eleven, if one counted thecity lands of royalBaen-Tar.A century earlier theLiberation had permanentlyestablished long-disputed

bordersandcreatedaclassofnobility to ruleover them. Inalloftheprovincessaveone,thenobilitywereVerenthane.Theoneexception,ofcourse,was Taneryn. Lord KraylisswastheonlyGoeren-yaigreatlord in Lenayin. No surprisethenthattheHadryn–Tanerynborder remained the mosttroubled in Lenayin. To allthemanycausesforcountlesscenturies ofwar between theHadryn and Taneryn, the

Liberation had addedreligion.Asgrandas theLiberation

had been, not all the Lenaypeoples had shared in itsbenefits. For the Udalynpeoples, the Liberation hadprovenadisaster.Today,theylived trapped in their valleywithin the boundaries ofHadryn, holding fiercely tothe old ways, despite theHadryn's attempts to convertthem or kill them. The

Taneryn considered themheroes.TheHadryn,heretics.It remainedperhaps themostemotive of unresolvedconflicts in Lenayin. ForGoeren-yai across Lenayin,the Udalyn representedantiquity, the old ways frombefore the Liberation, toostrong to die, too proud togive up the fight. If theUdalyn were somehowinvolved in this latestcalamity, Sasha reckoned,

then matters could becomeverygrimindeed.“Rashyd's men were on

manoeuvre, we heard,” saidCaptain Tyrun, downing hismouthfulwithagulpofwine.Tyrun had a lean, angularface, like the falcon fromwhichhisunit took itsname.His nose was large, hismoustache broad anddrooping. Less well clipped,Sasha noted with reluctantcuriosity, than most

Verenthaneofficers,althoughhis face bore no sign of theinkquill,norhisearsofringsor other, pagan decoration.Most likely he was noGoeren-yai, although if heworeaVerenthanemedallion,it lay hidden beneath histunic.“ItseemshewaskilledwithinTanerynborders.Whathewasdoingthere,ifhewasthere,wedon'tknow.”“Making nuisance, most

likely,” Teriyan remarked

aroundamouthful.“Hadryn'sclaimed the western parts ofTaneryn for centuries, damnRashyd's been angling for awarsincehisfatherdied.”“Words were exchanged,”

Tyruncontinued,ignoringthedark look that Damon fixedon Teriyan. “A fight ensuedbetween Rashyd's men andKrayliss's. Some were killedon both sides. And Kraylisskilled Rashyd personally,with clear intent. So the

messengersaid.”“Hemightnothaveseenit

all,”Jaegarcautioned.Ormight be lying through

histeethtoprotectthehonourof his ass of a lord, Sashathought to herself. Still, sheforced herself to remainsilent. It would not befitanyone to be speaking ill ofLordRashydsosoonafterhisdeath.The calamity was beyond

her immediate

comprehension. No one inthesepartslikedLordRashydTelgar, with his arrogant,northern ways and strictVerenthane codes. But forKrayliss to kill him…Therewere some who'd said thatLordRashydsatat theking'srighthand.Andotherswho'dsaid that the king, at LordRashyd's…Tyrun heard Jaegar's

caution and shrugged. “Asyou say,” he said. “We have

yet to discover whathappened. But Krayliss hastaxed theking's tolerance fora long time now, and therecomes a timewhen even ourtolerantkingmustputhisfootdown.Inthis,wearetheheelofhisboot.”“Our king,” said Master

Jaryd, somewhat tersely, “isvastly long on tolerance. Heis a merciful man, a man ofthe gods, for surely theyfavour him. My father says

thatLordKraylisshaspreyedupon this mercy as a spoiltchildpreysuponthetoleranceof a doting parent. Like thespoiltchild,Kraylissdeservesa spanking. With HisHighness the Prince'sblessing, I intend toadministeritpersonally.”Jaryd downed a mouthful

of ale with a flourish,lounging in his chair as anathletic man might, whowished others to observe the

fact.Sashaobservedhimwithadarkcuriosity,havingneverseen this particular youngnoble face-to-face before.Jaryd Nyvar was a nameknownthelengthandbreadthof Lenayin, and even thoselikeSashawhotriedtoavoidthe endless gossip ofVerenthane nobility knewsomethingof his exploits.Atno more than twenty-onesummers, Jaryd Nyvar wastheheirofTyree.Hismother

wasacousintoSasha'sfather—King Torvaal Lenayin—which made her and Jarydrelated, she supposed. It washardly uncommon amongstLenay nobility—she wasprobably related to far morearrogant young puss-headsthanJarydNyvar.Butitmadeheruneasy,allthesame.Every year at one of the

great tournaments, JarydNyvar would win personalhonours of swordwork or

horsemanship. Hisflamboyancewasfamous,hisdancing reputedly excellent,anditwassaidhemadegrandgestures to the ladies beforeeverybout.Sashahadhearditsaid jokingly that Jaryd'sswordwork was so excellentbecausehe'dspentmostofhisdays beating off hordes ofgirls, and theirmothers,withastick.Looking at him now, she

grudgingly conceded the

storiesofhisappearancewerenot too far-fetched. He wasvery pretty,with light brownhair worn somewhat longerthan most Verenthanes, justabove the collar at the back,and large, dark brown eyesthat promised fire andmischief in equal measure.She had not heard of hiscommand posting to theFalcon Guards. Perhaps hisfather grew tired of hispointless gallivanting and

thought to put his skills tosomedecent, disciplined use.Andhisfather,theysaid,wasdying. Perhaps that added totheurgency.“The Falcon Guard was

posted to Baen-Tar for thesummer?” Teriyan askedJaryd.“The latter half of the

summer, aye,” Jaryd agreed.He took a grape from thetableand tossed iteasily intohis mouth. “We trained with

theRoyalGuardandothers…gave them a right spankingtoo, I might add. Right,Captain?”“Aye, M'Lord,” Captain

Tyrun agreed easily. “Thatwedid.”“I'veservedinbothHadryn

and Taneryn,” Teriyan said,chewing on a slice of roastmeat. “That entire border'sfullofarmedmenwaitingforan incident. I wonder if theFalconGuardwillbeenough.

You're damn good, sure, buteighty men can't beeverywhere at once. If thisgets serious, there'll behundreds runnin’ around likeheadless chickens.Thousands,maybe.”“Threemorecompaniesare

several days behind us,”Damon said. “Each of thoseis promised at closer to theirfull strength—five hundredmen in total. Most of theFalcon Guard were on

manoeuvre about Baen-Tar.That's another hundred. Weleft in too much haste foranythingmore.”“We'd have gathered a

Valhanan company on theway through,”CaptainTyrunadded, “but there's nonestandingreadyatpresent.Wedid think itcommonsense togather Yuan Kessligh on thewaythrough,however.Ifhe'swilling.”He glanced toward the

emptychair.Sasha shrugged.“I can't speak for him,” shesaid. “But I'd be surprised ifheweren't.”Jaryd slapped the table

with one hand, delighted.“Wonderful!” he exclaimed.“ToridewithYuanKessligh!I've dreamed of that since Iwasalad—smitingevil-doersat Kessligh's side! That foolKraylisswon'tknowwhathithim.”“Kraylissistheevil-doer?”

Sashaasked,implacablycool.“We have yet to establishwhat occurred surroundingLord Rashyd's death. Untilsuch a time as we know forsure, Lord Krayliss deservesthe benefit of any doubt,surely? Or has my father'slaw changed so drasticallywhenIwasn'twatching?”Jaryd smiled broadly, in

the manner of a masterfulwarrior challenged to a duelby a raggedy little farmer's

girl with a stick. “M'Lady,”he said, with a respectful,mirthful nod, “surely youknow what Lord Krayliss islike?Themanisabigot,a…arogue, a thief—a vain,strutting, pompous fool whois a blight upon the goodnobility of Lenayin! Andnow, apparently, a murderer,though this will surelysurprise no one who knowshistype.”“I've met Lord Krayliss,

Master Jaryd. Have you?”Jaryd gazed at her, his smileslowly slipping. “I've metLord Rashyd too. Andstrangely, I find yourdescription could just asreadily describe him as theother.”“I too have met Lord

Rashyd,severaltimes,”Jarydsaid coolly. Sasha wonderedifhe'd ever conversedwith ayoung woman on a matterthat did not involve her

giggling shyly with starryeyes.“Heis…orratherwas…a hard man, at timesconfrontingly so.But at leasthe was not a…a shaggy-headed, mindless, chest-thumping…” he waved ahand, searching for a new,derogatoryadjective.“Pagan?”Sashasuggested.Jarydjustlookedatherfor

a moment, realisationdawning in his eyes. Sashashifted her gaze to Jaegar,

beneath meaningful, raisedeyebrows. Jaegar coughed,andsippedathisdrink.Fromthis angle, the spirit-maskonthe left side of his face wasnot fully visible, but goldglintedfromhisear,anduponhis fingers. The long braid,also, was like nothing arespectable Verenthanewouldeverstooptowear.Anger flared in the future

Great Lord of Tyree's eyes.“Youputwordsinmymouth,

M'Lady,” he said accusingly.“Imeantnosuchthing!”“You young Verenthane

lords putwords in your ownmouths,”Sasharetorted,“andscarcely a thought beforeputting them there.Remember whose guest youare. They're far too polite tosayso.I'mnot.”“Shut up, both of you!”

Damon snapped before Jarydcould reply. The young manfumedather,alltraceofcool

demeanour vanished. Sashastared back, dark eyessmouldering. “Please excusemysister,MasterJaryd,”saidDamon, with forced calm.“Hertempersarefamous.”“And her allegiances,”

Jarydmuttered.“Ohpraydotellusallwhat

that means?” Sashaexclaimed, as Damon rolledhiseyesinfrustration.“I have many Goeren-yai

friends,M'Lady,” Jaryd said,

levelling a finger at her foremphasis. “None of themadmire Lord Krayliss even ajot. You, on the other hand,seem all too pleased to rushtohisdefence.”“I've heard those stories

too,” said Sasha. “TheHadrynandtheircronieshavenever been friends to eitherme orKessligh. They accuseme of sedition, of plottingagainst my father.” She putboth hands upon the table

with firm purpose. “Are youaccusing me of sedition,MasterJaryd?”Jaryd blinked. Sedition, of

course, was punished bydeath, with no exceptions. Aperson so accused, withoutreasonableproof,hadobviousgrounds for an honour duel.Those, also, ended in death.With very few exceptions.Jaryd started to smile oncemore,disbelievingly.Nomanabout the table seemed to

share his humour. JarydNyvar, tournament championofLenayin, seemedbarely tonotice.“No,”hesaid,offhandedly,

with an exasperated raise ofhis eyes to the ceiling, asthough he felt his dignityseverely pained to have totolerate such dreadfully sillypeople. Fool, Sasha thoughtdarkly. “Of course not.Yourtempersdeludeyou,M'Lady.Ihavenothingbutadmiration

for so great a Verenthanebeautyasyourown.”“Tell me, young Master

Jaryd,” said Teriyan, leaningforward with evidentamusement,chewingonsomebread. “Have you eversparred against a warriortrainedinthesvaalverd?”“As a matter of fact, no,”

Jaryd saidmildly. “The onlytwo people so trained inLenayin, I believe, areKesslighCronenverdtandhis

uma. And the visiting serrin,of course, but they neverenter a swordwork contest,eventhoughIhaveoftenseenthemattournaments.”“And have you ever

wondered why the serrindon't enter swordworkcontests?”Teriyanpressed.Jaryd smirked. “Perhaps

theyareafraid.”“Not afraid, young

Master,” said Teriyan. “Justpolite.”

Damon strode angrily alongthe upper corridor, the Star'sold floorboards creakingunderfoot, as the sounds ofmerriment continued frombelow. Sasha followed,conscious that her ownfootstepsmade far less noisethan her brother's, and thattheir respectiveweightswereonly half the reason why.Whentheyreachedhisroom,

DamonusheredSasha inside,closed thedoorand threwonthelatch.It was a good room, as

Lenay accommodation went.Four times larger than mostof the Star's rooms, itsfloorboards covered with adeer hide rug, and smallwindows inlaid across thestonewalls.Againsttheinnerwall,twolargebeds,withtallposts and soft mattressesbeneathpilesoffursandfine,

lowlands linen. Between thetwo beds, a fireplace,cracklingmerrily,andasmallpileoffirewoodinthewickerbasketalongside.“Why do you have to go

and do that?” Damondemanded at her back.Sashawalked to the space betweenthe two beds, where heatfrom the fire provided somecomfort.“Go and do what?” she

retorted.

“And this!” Damonexclaimed, striding over,reaching with one handtoward the tri-braid upon theside of her head…Sashaducked away, scowling athim. “What in the nine hellsisthat?”“It's a tri-braid, Damon.

One braid for each of thethree spirit levels.Don't theyeven teach basic Goeren-yailoreinBaen-Taranymore?”“Why, Sasha?” Damon

demanded, angrily. “Whywearit?”“Because I'm Lenay!”

Sasha shot back. “What areyou?”“Cutitoff.Rightnow.”Sasha folded her arms in

disbelief. “Make me!” sheexclaimed. Arisen from thedinner table, there was asword at her back now, andmore weapons besides.Damon, unlikeMaster Jaryd,knewbetter.

“Good gods, Sasha,” heexclaimed, with a sharpinhaling of breath. He putboth hands to his head,fingers lacedwithinhis thickdark hair, looking as hewouldneverwittinglyappearbefore his men—utterly at aloss. “A year since I've seenyou.Afullyear.Iwasalmostlookingforwardtoseeingyouagain…almost! Can youbelieve that? And this is thewelcomeIget!”

Sasha just stared at him,sullenly. Her temper slowlycoolingasshegazedupatherbrother. Not all the Lenayinlinewereblessedwithheight—she was proof enough ofthat. But Damon was. Amoderately tall young man,with a build that spokemoreof speed and balance thanbrute strength. He would bevery handsome indeed, shethought, if not for theoccasionally petulant curl of

hislipandthefaintlychildishwhine in his tone wheneverhe felt events going againsthim.Hewasthemiddlechildof

ten royal siblings, of whomnine now survived. WithKrystoff dead, Koenyg washeir.Wylfredwould be next,hadhenotfoundreligionandcommitted to theVerenthaneorder instead, with theirfather's blessing. Then cameDamon. Second-in-line now

and struggling so very hardbeneath the burden ofexpectation that came of onemartyred brother who wasalready legend, and anoverbearing stone-head of asurvivingelderbrother.“I'm not a Verenthane,

Damon,” Sasha told him,firmly. “I'll never be aVerenthane. You could cutmybraid,stickme inadressandfeedmeholyfablesuntilmy mind dissolves from the

sheer boredom, and I'll stillnotbeaVerenthane.”“Well that's all fine,

Sasha,” Damon said,exasperated. “You're not aVerenthane. Good for you.But you have a commitmentto our father, and thatcommitment includes notmaking overt statements ofloyalty toward the Goeren-yai.”“Whythehellsnot?”Sasha

fumed.“Goeren-yaiaremore

than half of Lenayin last Ilooked! It's only you lordlytypes that converted, and thecities and bigger towns…most of Lenayin is just likethis, Damon! Small villagesand towns filledwithdecent,hard-working folk who asknothing more than goodrulers and the right tocontinue being who they arewithoutsomeshaven-headed,black-robed idiot strollinginto their lives and

demandingtheirfealty.”“Sasha, your last name is

Lenayin!” Damon paused, tolet the impactof thatsink in.Wiser than to rise to herprovocations. That was new.“The family of Lenayin isVerenthane!Ithasbeenforacentury,since theLiberation!Now, whether yourarrangement with Kesslighmeans that your title isofficially ‘Princess’ or not,your family name remains

Lenayin! And while thatcontinues to be so, you shallnot,underanycircumstances,break with the continuity ofthelineofLenayin!”Sashawavedbothhandsin

disgust and strode across thefloor to lean against awindow rim. Lookingnortheastupthevalley,smalllights burned from thewindows of the houses thatlined the road, then thedark,ragged edge of the upper

treeline, separating the landfrom the vast expanse ofstars.HyathontheWarriorsatlow on the horizon, andSasha's eye traced the brightstars of shoulder, elbow andswordpommelraisedinmid-stroke.“Sasha.”Damonstrolledto

her previous spot, blockingthe fire's warmth. “MasterJaryd speaks the truth. Therehavebeen rumours, since thecall to Rathynal, of Krayliss

courtingyourapproval…”“The nobility talks,

Damon,” Sasha retorted,breathfrostinguponthecold,dark glass. “Rumour is theobsession of the ruling class,everyonealways talksof thisor that development, who isin favour with whom, andneveracare for theconcernsofthepeople.That'sallitis—talk.”“Justwhodoyouthinkyou

are, Sasha?” Damon said in

exasperation.“Achampionofthecommonpeople?BecauseIwilltellyouthis,littlesister—it's precisely that kind oftalk that breeds rumours.Krayliss and his kind cannotbe dismissed so easily, theydo have a strong followingamongst some of thepeople…”“Vastly overstated,” Sasha

countered, rounding on him.She folded her arms andleaned her backside against

the stone windowsill. “Theruling Verenthanes simplydon't understand their ownpeople, Damon. And do youknow why that is? It'sbecause there are so fewGoeren-yai among the rulingclasses. Krayliss is the onlyprovincial lord, and he's amaniac!”“A maniac who claims

ancestry with the line ofUdalyn,” Damon saidsharply. “You of all people

shouldknowwhattheUdalynmeantoGoeren-yaiallacrossLenayin.Suchappealscannotbetakenlightly.”“I of all peopledo know,”

Sasha said darkly. “You'reonly quoting what Koenygtold you. And he knowsnothing.”Damonbrokeoffhis reply

as the door rattled, held fastagainst the latch. Then animpatienthammering.Damonlooked at first indignant,

wondering who would daresuch impetuosity againstLenay royalty. Thenrealisation, and he stroderapidly to the door, flung offthelatchandsteppedbackforit to open. Kessligh entered,holding a wicker cageoccupied by three flapping,cluckingchickens.“Ah good,” said the

greatest swordsman inLenayin,noticingthefire.Hecarried the cage across the

creaking floor with barely aglance to Damon or Sasha,and placed the cage betweenthe two beds. The chickensflapped, then settled. “Theselowland reds don't like thecoldsomuch.Makesforbadeggs.”And he appeared to notice

Damon for the first time, asthe young prince relatchedthe door and came acrosswith an extended hand.Kessligh shook it, forearm to

forearmintheLenayfashion.Damon had half a head onKessligh and nearly thirtyyearsofyouth.Yetsomehow,in Kessligh's presence, heseemedtoshrinkinstature.“Yuan Kessligh,” Damon

said, with great deference.“Yuan,” Sasha reflected,watching them from herwindowsill. The only formaltitle Kessligh still retained,and that merely denoting agreat warrior. An old Lenay

traditionitwas,nowreservedfor those distinguished bylongserviceinbattle,betheyVerenthane or Goeren-yai. Itremained one of thosetraditionsthatboundthedualfaiths of Lenayin together,ratherthanpulledthemapart.But Kessligh, of course, wasneither Goeren-yai norVerenthane. “An honour toseeyouoncemore.”“Likewise,youngDamon,”

Kessligh replied, his tone

strong with that familiarKessligh-edge. Sharp andcutting, in a way that longyearsintheserviceofrefinedLenay lords had neverentirely dulled. Hard browneyesbore intoDamon's own,beneath a fringe of untidy,greying hair. “And are youthe hunter, this time? Ormerely the shepherd, tendingto errant sheep?” With acryptic glance across atSasha.

Sashamadeaface,farlessimpressed by the gravitas ofthe former LenayCommander of Armies thanmost.“Oh, well…” Damon

clearedhis throat.“Youhaveheard, then? About LordRashyd?”“I was just talking

downstairs,” Kessligh saidcalmly.“Catchingupwitholdfriends, learning the news,suchasitis.SoMasterJaryd

will live to see past dawn, Itakeit?”Damon blinked, looking

most uncertain. Which wasoften the way, for thoseconfronted with Kessligh'ssharp irreverence on mattersthat most consideredimportant.“It appears that way,”

Damon said, with a furtheruncertain glance at Sasha.Sasha watched, mercilesslycurious. “Please, won't you

sit? I'll have someone bringupsometea.”“Already done,” said

Kessligh, “but thank you.”And he sat, with no furtherado, cross-legged on thefurtherbed,withthechickensmurmuring and clucking tothemselves on the floorbelow.Sashaconsidered thestudy

in profiles as Damon undidhisswordbeltandmadetositonthebedopposite.Damon's

face, evidently anxious, hisfeatures soft and not entirelypronounced. And Kessligh's,rugged and lined with years,with a beakish nose, a sharpchinandhard,searchingeyes.Like a work of carving,expertly done yet neverentirely completed. He satstraight-backed on the bed,legs tucked tightly beneath,with the poise of aman halfhisyears.Itwasaposturethatwastednotamuscleorsinew,

anefficiencybornoflifelongdiscipline and devotion todetail. And his sword wasworn not at the hip, as withmost fighting men ofLenayin, but clipped to thebandolieronhisback,aswithall fighters of the svaalverdstyle.Damon sat with less poise

than Sasha's teacher—oruman,intheSaalsitongueofthe serrin—placing a foot onthe bedframe and pulling up

one knee. At his feet, thechickens clucked andfluttered at the furtherdisturbance.Damonlookedatthe chickens. And atKessligh. Struggling to thinkof something to say. Sashatried to keep an uncharitablesmileincheck.“These are good

chickens?” he managedfinally. Sasha coughed, abarely restrained splutter.Damonshotheradarklook.

“WellI'mtryingtobroadenthebreedingrange,”Kesslighreplied serenely. “These arekersan ross, from thelowlands. The eggs have aninteresting flavour, muchbetter for making lightpastries.”“You traded for these?”

Damon asked, attemptinginterest, to his credit. It wasLenaycustomthatnoserioustalk could begin before theteaarrived.PoorDamonwas

horribleatsmalltalk.“A local farmer placed an

order through hisconnections,” Kesslighreplied.“AwonderfultradingsystemwenowhavewiththeTorovans.Placeanorderwiththe right people and aTorovan convoy will deliverin two or three months.They're becoming quitepopular.”“As with all things

Torovan,” Sasha remarked.

Damon frowned at her.Kesslighsimplysmiled.“Ah,” he said. “Thus

speaks she of the Nasi-Keth.ShewhofightswithSaalshenstyle, lovesVonnersenspicesin all her foods, washesregularly with the importedoils of coastal Maras, livesoff the wealth from theTorovan love of Lenay-bredhorses, speaks two foreigntongues,andhasbeenknowntodownentiretankardsofale

with visiting serrin travellerswhileplayingAmeryngamesof chance. But no lover offoreignersshe.”Kessligh'ssharpeyesfixed

uponher, sardonically.Sashaheld her tongue, eyebrowsraised in a manner thatinvited praise for doing so.There had been times in thepast when she had not beensodisciplined.Hegrunted,inmild amusement. Then camea knocking on the door,

which Sasha answered andfound the tea delivered on atray.She set the tray on a

footstool for Kessligh toprepare, then settled into arecliningchairwitha sighofachingmuscles.Damon accepted his tea

with evident discomfort.Princeornot,fewLenaysfeltcomfortable having Kesslighserve them tea. But that hadnot stopped Kessligh from

cooking for entire tables ofBaerlyn folk when suitableoccasions arose. Sasha hadalways found it curious, thisyawning gulf between thepopular Lenay notion ofKesslighthevanquishingwarhero, and her familiar,homespun reality. Kesslighthesonofpoordockworkersin lowlandsPetrodor, tradingcapitalofTorovan,forwhomLenaywasasecond(orthird)language, still spokenwith a

tinge of broad, lowlandervowels that others remarkedupon, but Sasha had longsince ceased to notice.Kessligh the Nasi-Keth—aserrin cult (or movement,Kessligh insisted) whosepresence had long beenprominent amongst theimpoverished peoples ofPetrodor. Kessligh, serrin-friend, with old ties andallegiances that even threedecades of life and fame in

Lenayin had not managed toerase.Kessligh considered

Sasha's evident wearinesswith amusement, sipping athis tea. “Did Teriyan wearyouout?”heasked.“More demonstrations,”

Sasha replied wryly,stretchingout legsanda freearm, arching her back like acat. Her left shoulder achedfrom a recent strain. Itseemed to have altered the

balance of her grip, for thetendonofherleftthumbnowthrobbed in sympathy whereher grip upon the stanch hadsomehow tightened,unconsciously. The knuckleson her right hand werebruised where a stanch hadcaught her, and severalmoreimpactsachedabouther ribs,causing a wince if one werepressed unexpectedly. Thefront of her right ankleremained tender from where

she'd turned it several daysago,duringoneofKessligh'sfootwork exercises. Andthosewere just the pains shewasmostawareof.Allinall,just another day for the umaof Kessligh Cronenverdt.“They all want to seesvaalverd, so I show themsvaalverd. And rather thanlearning, they then spend thewhole time complaining thatit'simpossible.”Kessligh shook his head.

“Svaalverdistaughtfromthecradle or not at all,” he said.“Best they learn little. Itmakes an ill fit withtraditional Lenay techniques.Men who try both get theirfooting confused and tripthemselvesup.”“Wecouldtryteachingthe

kids,”saidSasha,sippingherown tea. “Before Jaegar andothers get their hooks intothem.”“The culture here is set,”

Kesslighreplied.“I'mloathtotamper with it. Tradition hasitsown strength, and its ownlife. And I fear I've causedenough damage to Lenaycustom already.”Meaningfully.Sasha snorted. “Well I

would be a good little farmwench, but it's difficult tofight in dresses, andimpossibletoride…”“Youcouldhavekeptyour

hair long,” Kessligh

suggested.“Andwornaman'sbraid?”

WithaglanceatDamon,wholistened and watched withgreat intrigue. The formerLenay Princess and theformerLenayCommanderofArmies.TomanyinLenayin,it still seemed anoutrageouslyunlikelypairing.Manyrumouredas to its truenature. “I couldn't wear itlooselikethewomenbecausethen itwouldget in theway,

butIcan'twearabraidlikeaman because then I'm notallowedtobeawomanatall.The only option left was tocut it short as some of theserringirlswearit.Idon'tdoeverythingjusttobedifficult,you know, I did actually putsomethoughtintoit.”“The evidence of that

doesn't equal yourconclusion,” Kesslighremarkedwithamusement.Sasha gave Damon an

exasperated look. “This iswhatpassesforentertainmentinthegreatmindofKesslighCronenverdt,” she told him.“Belittling me in front ofothers.”“What's not entertaining

aboutit?”Damonsaidwarily.Sashamadeafaceathim.“I assume you've made

comment on Sasha's newappendage?” Kesslighcontinued wryly, with a nodat her tri-braid. “She insists

it's all the fashion.Myself, Iwonderwhyshecan'tholdtoTorovan jewellery and knee-high boots like good, properLenaychildren.”Sasha grinned. Damon

blinked,andsippedhisteatocover the silence as he triedto figure out what to say.“You approve?” he saidfinally.Kessligh made an

expansive shrug. “Approve,disapprove…” He held a

hand in Sasha's direction.“Behold, young Damon, atwenty-year-old female. Inthe face of such as this, ofwhatconsequenceisitformetoapproveordisapprove?”Damon shrugged, faintly.

“MostLenayfamiliesarelessaccommodating.Tradition,asyou say.” Sasha raised aneyebrow. It was moreconfrontational than she'dexpectedfromDamon.“Thisismyuma,”Kessligh

replied calmly. “I am heruman. In the ways of theserrin, and thus the ways ofthe Nasi-Keth, it is not forumantodictatepathstotheiruma. She will go her ownway, and find her own path.Shouldshehavechosenstudyand herbal lore instead ofswordwork and soldiery, thatwould also have been herchoice…although asomewhat poorer teacher Iwouldhavemade,nodoubt.

“So she feels a commoncausewith theGoeren-yai ofLenayin.” He shrugged.“Hardly surprising, havinglived amongst them fortwelve of her twenty years.Themistakeyouallmake,beyouVerenthanesorromanticslike Krayliss, is to think ofherasanythingotherthanmyuma. What she does, andwhat she chooses to wear inher hair, she does as uma tome. This is a separate thing

frompolitics.Quitefrankly,itdoes not concern you. Norshoulditconcernourking.”“Ourkingconcernshimself

with many things,” Damonsaidmildly.“Not this,” said Kessligh.

“Heowesmetoomuch.AndKing Torvaal always repayshis debts.” Damon gazeddownathisteacup.“Baerlynis not the most direct linefrom Baen-Tar to Taneryn.What purpose does this

detourserve?”Damon glanced up. “Your

assistance,” he said plainly.“YouareasgreatlyrespectedinTanerynashere.Myfatherfeels, and I agree, that yourpresence in Taneryn wouldcalm the mood of thepeople.”“Theking'sjusticemustbe

the king's,” Kessligh replied,ahardstareunfixingupontheyoungprince'sface.“Icannottakehisplace.Sucha role is

moreyoursthanmine.”“We have concern about

the people of Hadryn takingmattersintotheirownhands,”said Damon. “Lenayin hasbeen mercifully free of civilstrife over the last century.Thekingwouldnot see suchold history repeated. Yourpresencewouldbevalued.”“Iclaimnospecialpowers

over the hard men ofHadryn,” said Kessligh, witha shake of his head. “The

north has never loved me.During the Great War, mysuccesses stolemuch thunderfrom the northern lords, andnow Lenay history recordsthat forces under mycommand saved them fromcertain defeat. That couldhave been acceptable,were IVerenthane, or a northerner.ButI'mafraidthenorthviewsGoeren-yai andNasi-Keth ascut from the same cloth—irredeemably pagan and

godless. I do not see whatcomfort my presence therecouldbring.”“But you will come?”

Damonpersisted.Kesslighsippedhistea,his

eyes not leaving Damon's.“Should my Lord Kingcommand it,” he said, inmeasured tones. “Of course,you understand that Sashamust therefore accompanyme?”Damon blinked at him.

AndglancedacrossatSasha.“Theseeventsmakeforgreatuncertainty.IhadthoughtforhertoremaininBaerlyn,witha complement of FalconGuardforprotection.”“You'd what?” Sasha

asked, with no diplomacy atall.Kessligh held up a hand,

and she held her tongue,fuming.Heunfoldedhislegs,inonelithemove,andleanedforward to pour some more

tea from the earthen-glazeteapot. “She's safer at myside,” he said. And gazedclosely at Damon. “And hercontinued presence here,away from me, would onlycreate an inviting target,wouldn't you say? In theseuncertaintimes,it'sbesttobesure.”

“I’M SAFER AT YOUR SIDE?”

Sasha whisperedincredulously, as she walkedwithKesslighoutthroughtheinn's rear exit, and into thepaved courtyard at the back.“What am I, some Baen-Tarnoble wench to be protectedateveryturn?”

The night chill was sharp,breathfrostingbeforeherlipsas she spoke.The remainsofadecliningfireburnedwithinthe courtyard, surrounded byagreatmanymen,withacupinhand,orplacedsomewherenearby.Kesslighwalkedsoastokeepwellclearofthefire'slight, and together theypassedunnoticedinthedark.“Damon's not here forme,

Sasha,”Kesslighsaidgrimly,hands in the pockets of his

jacketashestrode.“He'shereforyou.”“For me? He doesn't even

wantmealong…”“Damn it, pay attention,”

Kessligh rebuked her, withmorethanatraceofirritation.“Haven't you grasped it yet?Despite everything I've beentellingyou,withyour friendsand drinking sessions, andthat new growth sproutingfrom the side of your head?Krayliss ismakinghismove,

Sasha.It'sadesperate,stupid,foolishmove,butnomoresothanonemighthaveexpectedfrom Krayliss. He threatensmartyrdom. If we're all notextremely careful, he mightjustgetit.”Sasha frowned. She didn't

likeitwhenKesslighgotlikethis. He made everythingseem so complicated. Whycouldn't he just accept whatshe was, and how she felt?Why couldn't everyone?

“Krayliss…” and she shookher head, trying to clear hermind. “Krayliss can't usemeasafigurehead.”Tryingtoberational. “I'm a woman, he'dnever accept awoman as hissymbol of Goeren-yairevival…”“You're worse than a

woman,” Kessligh cut in,“you're Nasi-Keth. Kraylisshates all foreigners, Sasha—that means me, thelowlanders and the serrin

equally, he makes nodistinction. But you're theclosest thing to a genuineGoeren-yai within the royalline that he's got, and hemight just be desperateenough. Have you seen thecondition of the FalconGuard'shorses?Damonmadethe ride from Baen-Tar fast.He came to secure you, tomake sure Krayliss couldn'treach you first. That's thedoing of your father's

advisors. Your father haslittle enough fear of you.Theyhaveplenty.”“My father's advisors now

includeWynaTelgar,”Sashamuttered. “To hear Sofy tellof it, anyhow. I'm sure myeldest brother's wife wouldnothavebeenpleasedtohearthat her father is dead. Iwonder whyKoenyg did notcome himself, with thatdragon breathing fire downhisneck.”

“Prince Koenyg is astickler for the rules,”Kessligh said grimly.“Rathynalapproachesandtheheir should not gogallivanting off to theprovincestobashsomelordlyheads together. That's whatjuniorprincesarefor.”Lampslitthestablesahead

where several guardsmenwere talking with localBaerlyn men, some of themregular stablehands. Several

lads carried heavy blankets,or lugged saddlebags, orshifted loads of hay. The airsmelled of hay, manure andhorses—to Sasha's nose, amost familiar and agreeableodour, tinged with thesweetness of burning lampoil.“It'stheRathynal,isn'tit?”

Sasha said, arms wrappedabout herself, only partly torepresstheshiversbroughtonby the cold air. “That's why

everyone'ssojumpy.”“There's a lot to be jumpy

about,” saidKessligh, raisinga hand in answer to thehorsemen's respectful hails.“Such a large meeting canonly reopen old wounds.Especially with foreignlowlanders invited. There'swar in the offing, Sasha. Usoldwarhorses can smell it inthe air. Damn right we'rejumpy.Youshouldbetoo.”“There won't be a war,”

Sasha said, with forcedcertainty as they walkeddownthelonglineofstables.“Ijustcan'timaginewe'llgetinvolved in some stupid warin theBacosh. It's all too faraway.”“It'snearerthanSaalshen,”

Kessligh said grimly. “Andserrincomehereallthetime.BecarefulofMasterJaryd—Iknow you derive great joyfromboxingtheearsofstuck-upyoungidiotslikehim,and

Isympathise.ButRathynalisa time for all the great lordsto make great decisions, andthisRathynalshallbegreaterthanmost.LordKrayliss isahuge obstacle in suchmeetings—so long as hecontinues to sow division,Lenayin shall be foreverdivided, and the Verenthanenobility will never have itswayonanygreat issue.LordKrayliss delights in twistingthe knife and ruining their

grand plans at the mostinopportunemoments.“Whetheryoulikeitornot,

Verenthane nobility hear therumours connecting you tothe Goeren-yai, and toKrayliss, and they worry. InLordAystin'seyes,theremaynot be very much differencebetween you and Krayliss atall, and so I'd be surprised ifhis heir Jaryd feelsdifferently. You can becertain Lord Rashyd and the

northerners are not the onlyLenay lords whowould loveto see Krayliss deposed andthe entire ruling line ofTanerynreplacedwithagoodVerenthane family. It wouldnot surprise me to find thatwhatever incident hasoccurred,itwascookedupbyLord Rashyd with supportfrom other Lenay lords,possiblyincludingGreatLordAystin Nyvar of Tyreehimself.”

“You're tellingme that thegallant and dashing MasterJaryd Nyvar may wish toplant a knife in my back?”Sasha suggested with someincredulity.“I'm telling you to be

careful. Verenthanesfrequently claim that all theoldbloodfeudsandbickeringdisappeared with theLiberationand thecomingofVerenthaneism—don'tbelieve it. It's still there, just

hiding. It's sneaking self-interest disguised beneath acloak of smiling Verenthanebrotherhood, and that makesit even more dangerous thanwhen itwas out in the open,as in older times…or moredangerous,atleast,ifyouareits target. Trust me—I wasborn in Petrodor, and I'veseen it. In such disputes ofpower, it's always the knifeyoucan'tseethatkillsyou.”“I'd prefer the old days,”

Sasha snorted. “At least thenrival chieftains killed theiropponentsfacetoface.”“Don'tbestupid,”Kessligh

said shortly. “A thousandcorpses honourably killed isnoimprovementonahandfulof victims strangled in thenight.”Terjellyn hung his head

over the stable door, havingheard themcoming.Kesslighgave him an affectionate rubas a stable boy hovered,

awaiting anything Baerlyn'stwo most famous residentsmightrequire.“You'll be with Jaegar all

night?” Sasha asked. Theunhappiness must haveshown in her voice, forKessligh gave her a sardoniclook.“I think you can handle

your brother for one night,”he remarked. “It would benice if I could discussBaerlyn's affairs with Jaegar

beforewe ride.Wemight begone several weeks.”Terjellyn nudged at hisshoulder. The big chestnutstallion was a directdescendant of Tamaryn,Kessligh's mount during thegreat Cherrovan War thirtyyears gone. He'd riddenTamaryn all the way fromPetrodor, a mere sergeantamongtheTorovanvolunteerbrigadesthathadfloodedintoLenayin following the

invasion of the Cherrovanwarlord Markield. TheLiberation seventy yearsgone, the Archbishop ofTorovan had not wished tosee the thriving “VerenthaneKingdom” ofLenayin lost toa raging barbarian mob andhad commanded Torovanbelievers to ride west on aholywar.Kessligh,however,hadnotriddenforfaith.Tamaryn had then borne

himthroughthebetterpartof

an entire year's fighting, inthe wooded valleys andmountainsofLenayin,duringwhich Kessligh had risen tolieutenant, then captain, andthen Commander of Armiesfor all Lenayin, and inflicteda thrashing upon theCherrovan from which theyhadnotrecoveredtothisveryday.Eversince,Kesslighhadneverhadaprimaryride thatwas not a descendant ofTamaryn—Terjellyn's great-

grandfather. It was the onlysuperstition Sasha had everknownhimtoconcede.“Be nice to Damon. Try

not to provoke him toomuch.”Sasha stared elsewhere as

Kessligh opened the stabledoor, and gave Terjellyn aonce-over before mountingbareback. The big stallion, amore mature and refinedgentleman than her Peg,walked calmly into the

courtyard.“We'llbeoffbeforedawn,”

Kessligh told her from theheight of his mount. “We'llgo home first, get the gear,thenrejointhecolumnontheway to Taneryn.” Sashanodded, arms folded againstthe cold. “What's yourproblem?”“What'll happen to

Krayliss?”sheasked.“Youcarethatmuch?”“About the fate of the

Goeren-yai?” Sasha shotback.“HowcouldInot?”Kessligh exhaled hard,

glancing elsewhere with afrown.“I don't knowwhat to tell

you,” he said finally. “Youchose this path foryourself…”“Ididnot,”Sasharetorted,

sullenly.“Itchoseme.”“Youare stillyour father's

daughter, Sasha. Whatevernew role and title you bear

now.” His eyes refixed uponher with narrowed intent.“None of us can escape theaccidents of our birth soeasily.”“That's not what you told

Damonbackthere.Whatwasall that about me being youruma, and nothing moreshouldmatter?”“Onesideofanargument,”

Kessligh said calmly. “I'msure Damon can provide theothersidehimself.”

“You should have chosenanotheruma.Onewithoutthefamilybaggage.”Kessligh's lean, wry

features thinned with a faintsmile.“Idon'trecallthatIdidchoose you. In that, youchoseme.”Sasha gazed up at him.

Kessligh's expression, alivewith the dancing shadows oflamplight, was almostaffectionate.“Don'tsleepin,”hewarned

her. “And for the gods’ ownsakes, stay away from thatryebeer.It'smurder.”Andhenudged Terjellyn with hisheels, clattering off up thedark, cobbled path to thecourtyard, and the laughingmerrimentofmen.

Sleepdidnotcomeeasy.Fora long time, Sasha laybeneaththeheavycoversand

gazed at the ceiling. Theroomglowedwiththeorangeembers from the fire. Fromthesecondbed, furthest fromthedoor,shecouldhearlittlesoundfromDamon'sbed.She would have preferred

her own, separate room, aswas the usual arrangementwhen she had cause to stayovernight at the Star. ButDamon having acquired thelordlyquarters, formdictatedthat one royal should not

sleep in lesseraccommodation than theother. Such an occurrencemight spread rumours of adivision.Sasha hated it all. Hated

the gossip and sidewayslooks, hated the out-of-towners who stared andwhispered, hated thenortherners who sneered andmade smirking commentsamongst themselves. Hadalways hated it, in all her

living memory. And hermemory, Kessligh hadfrequently noted withsomething less thanpleasure,was vast. She recalled theechoing stone halls of Baen-Tar Palace all toowell, withtheirexpensive tapestriesandpaintings. Recalled well thetexture of the grass in thelittle courtyards betweenbuildings where she had satfor lessons on a sunny day,and found fargreater interest

in the beetles and flowergardensthaninclassicaltextsor Torovan history…to saynothing of scripture, orembroidery.Recalled the look her

instructors, servants andvarious assortedminders hadgiven her, the “Sashandra-always-in-trouble” look, thatexpected bad behaviour andwasfrequentlypresentedwithsuch. She'd never understoodthose rules. Should a deep-

cushionmattressnot be usedfor jumping? And what onearth was wrong withthrowingscrapsoffoodtothepigeons that sat upon herbedroomwindowledge?Andrunning in hallways, whatpossibleharmcoulditcause?“Unladylike,”hadbeenthe

routine answer. Andundignified, for a princess ofLenayin. “Then I don't wanttobeaprincessofLenayin!”had been her typically

untactful, six-year-old reply.They'dlockedherinherroomand given her a compositionassignment to fill the time.She recalled even now theblank page of paper sheaf,and the little, sharp-tippedquill that looked like it hadoncebeenawaterbirdfeather.Wasthatnatural?Torecall

theexperiencesofasix-year-oldwithsuchdetailedclarity?Kessligh had said, only half-seriously, that it stopped her

from growing up, so tightlydid she clutch to thememories of her past. Sashahad answered that on thecontrary, it spurred her toleave that time even furtherbehind.Butnow,lyinginthewarm, orange glow of theStar's lordly quarters, shewondered.She recalled throwing the

sheaf of papers out thewindow, scattering pigeonsfromtheledge,andpapersall

over the gardens below. Notbeing able to do what onechose had seemed a greatinjustice. Her minders hadconcluded that she wasspoiled, and had determinedto make life more difficult,removing more privileges,andincreasingtheseverityofpunishments. That had onlymade her angry. The nexttime she'd thrown somethingout of the window, it hadbeen heavy, and she hadn't

openedthewindowfirst.Damon, of course, had

since challenged herrecollectionsofthosetimes.Ithadnotbeenallherminders’fault, he'd proclaimed, uponher first visit back to Baen-Tar in four years, at the ripeold age of twelve.He'd beenfifteen, somewhat ganglingandwithtwoleftfeet‒notanuncommon condition forboys, Kessligh had assuredher,andonereasonwhygirls

were easier to train. She'dbeen born wild, Damon hadinsisted. Wild like a bobcat,breaking things and bitingpeople from the momentshe'd learned how to walk.They'd only been trying tostopherfromkillingsomeone—mostlikelyherself.Andallof it had been no one's faultbutherown.Twelve-year-oldSashahad

punchedhiminthenose.Whatever the cause of the

madness, Krystoff had beenthecure.Krystoff, theheir tothe throne of Lenayin, withhis flowing black hair, hiseasy laugh, and his rakish,good-humoured charm.Eleven years her senior, thesecond eldest after Marya,whowas now safelymarriedto the ruling family ofPetrodor. Sasha suffered aflashofveryearlymemory…hidingbehindahaybale inabarn, watching Kessligh and

Krystoffsparringwithfuriousintensity.Gods she must have been

young.She tried to recall thedress—her memory ofdresses was particularlyexcellent,muchthesamewayas a longtime prisoner mustsurely recall various types ofshackles and chains. Thefrilly, tight-stitchedpetticoats?Yes, itmust havebeen, she rememberedyanking at them beneath her

pleated, little girl's dress,trying to stop them fromtugging as she crouched.She'd been five, then, thatnight in thebarn…and ithadbeennight,hadn'tit?Yes,sherecalled the flickeringlamplight and the mustysmell of burning oil behindthefamiliarodourofhay.But there hadn't been any

fire damage to the northernwall in that memory. She'dnearly burned it all down at

the beginning of her sixthyear,whenshe'dbeencaughtsneaking and forciblyremoved. She'd grabbed andthrown a bale hook in herfury as they'd carried heraway, striking a nearby lampand sending hay bales up inroaring flames. Serrin oil,she'd later learned—long-lasting,butveryflammable.Kessligh had seen that

throw, however, and beenimpressed. That had been

about the time Krystoff hadbegun to take pity on her,taking an interest in one ofhissistersatanagewhentheothers,saveforMarya,mightas well have been invisible.Sherecalledhimenteringherroom the day following thefire,anathleticandwell-builtseventeen, and surely thestrongest, most handsomeman in all Baen-Tar to herworshipful eyes. She'd beencrying. He'd asked her why.

And she'd explained that shewastobekeptunderlockandkey for aweek.No sunlight,save what fell naturallythrough her bedroomwindow. No natural things,save the pigeons thatsquabbled and made sillysoundsonherwindowledge.No grassy courtyards. Norunning, and definitely nochancetosneaktothecreakyoldbarnin theoldcastleandwatch the Lenayin

Commander of Armiesattempt to whip her eldestbrotherintoarespectableheirandNasi-Kethuma.Krystoff had melted. And

suddenly, in the followingdays, she was free. He'dpromised her that if she justbehaved herself, she couldcome and watch him trainthat night. She'd beencourteous and attentive allthrough that day, and hadperformed all her required

tasks without so much asfidgeting. Her minders hadbeen incredulous. AndKrystoff, true to his word,had found her a nice, highhay bale to sit on andwatchproceedings in the barn thatevening after dinner…forKrystoff trained twice a day,she'd been amazed to learn,anddidmanyotherexercisesin between.Hewas going tobe not only heir of Lenayin,butNasi-Keth, likeKessligh.

She had not, of course,grasped anything of thebroader significance of thishistoric fact, nor the disquietit had surely caused amongstdevout Verenthaneseverywhere, despiteassurances that in Petrodor,most Nasi-Keth were alsoVerenthanes, and found noconflictbetween the two.AllSasha had knownwas that itseemedawfullyexciting.Kessligh, with curious

humour, had even shownhersome basic footwork whenbig brother Krystoff hadneeded a rest. She'd gotten itfirst go, slippered feetdancingonthedustandloosestraw. Krystoff hadencouragedherwithtypicallyinfectiousenthusiasm.They'dfound her a broomstick,broken the end off and she'dused it for a practice stanch.She'dmanagedthebasictaka-dan first time also—some of

whichhadcomefromspying,and some from simpleinspiration.She'devengottenthe tricky wrist-angle, andhow it shifted with differentfooting. Krystoff had beenexcitedenoughtopickherupand spin her about, whereanother man might have feltslighted,upstagedbyhislittlesisterwithabroomstick.Veryfew pupils ever simply “got”the svaalverd first time, notevenserrin.Kesslighhadjust

watched, his expressionunreadable.From then on, within the

privacy of the barn atevenings, there'd beeninstruction for Sasha also.Lessons and exercises, too,for her to perform in herroom in early mornings,before theservantsarrived tofill her morning bath, anddressherintheirlatesttorturecontraption, and brush herlong,flowinghair.She'dkept

that half-a-broomstickbeneath her mattress, andwhen it was found andconfiscated, she'd used thefire poker in her roominstead. Those exercises hadbeen her wonderful secret—something herminders couldnever take away—and she'dpractised every time she'dfound a privatemoment.Herminders did not approve ofKrystoff's increasingly activerole in her life, despite her

improved behaviour. Withimproved behaviour hadcome high spirits, and ahappy, rambunctious littleSashandra Lenayin had beeneverybit thechallenge thatasullen, moody one hadpresented.They'd been kindred

spirits, sheandKrystoff.Sherecalled helping him to raidthe kitchens when soldiersjust arrived from impromptuexercises were hungry and

unhappyatbeingtoldtowaituntil mealtime. RecalledKrystoff flustering the chiefcook, and sweet-talking thegiggling, blushing kitchenmaids,whileSashahadstoodonachair,andloadedloavesof bread and bowls of souponto trays for the queuingsoldiers,who'dgrinnedatherandruffledherhair.Another time, he'd

somehow talked theproprietorof the traininghall

into admitting her—Krystoffhad been said to own theknack of talking fish out ofwater,orchickensintoflight.(Or virtuous Verenthanemaidens into hisbedchambers, many had alsosaid, when they thought shecouldn't hear.) There she'dwatched athletic Lenaywarriors drenched in sweat,pounding each other'sdefences with utmostconfidence and swagger…

until they'd come up againstKrystoff's svaalverd, andfound it like trying to swat afly from the air with awheelwright'shammer.Yet another time, rather

naively, he'd introduced herto horses, and his little sisterhad fallen in love for asecondtime.LittleSashandrawould abandon classes to gowanderingaroundthestables,watching the stable boys andpestering the trainers for

desperately covetedknowledge. And when theRoyal Guards put on aformation display for avisiting foreign lord…well,no locks nor bars nor solidstonewallscouldholdher.Those had been the best

days, when her newfoundconfidence had blossomed,and with it, her first truesense of self. She'd evenmade peace with her otherbrothers and sisters…or no,

she reflected now as shegazed at the ceiling—maybenot peace.More like a truce.An uneasy and often hostileone,withoccasionalbreachescaused by either party, butusually resolved in shortorder.Given nine headstrong

siblings, that had been nomean achievement. Otherthan Krystoff, Marya—theeldest—had been her bestfriend, and her marriage and

departure for Petrodor hadbeen a sad day indeed.Koenyg, then second-in-linefor the throne behindKrystoff, had long beenjealous of his elder brother'scarefree popularity, and hadspent much of his lifeattempting to becomeeverything that Krystoff wasnot—disciplined, calm andsober.HersisterPetryna,nowmarried to the heir ofLenayin'sYethulynprovince,

had been studious andsensible, and no lover ofoutrageous antics. Wylfredhad preferred his owncompany and spent much ofhis free time in temple withhisbooks.AndthentherewasDamon,onlyaboyhimselfinall her Baen-Tar memories,and oh-so self-conscious andawkward in the presence ofhis overbearing, talentedelder brothers. And Alythia,theglamorousone,wholoved

everything princessly thatSasha hated, and loved evenmoretodemonstratethatfacttotheworld.And then, of course, there

were her two youngersiblings, Sofy and Myklas…and her eyes widened. ShehadnotaskedanythingaboutSofy! Gods and spirits, howcouldshebesoforgetful?Sherolled her head upon thepillow and cast a glanceacross at Damon, apparently

asleep beneath the covers.But there might be no timetomorrow,shereasoned.“Damon,”shecalledacross

the beds. “Damon. Are youawake?”“If I said no, would you

leave me alone?” cameDamon'sreply,muffledinthepillows. Sasha wasn't fooled—hecouldn'tsleepeither.Nowonder, given how heavilythe weight of commandusually sat upon his

shoulders.“How is Sofy?” Sasha

asked him. “In all this fussabout Krayliss, I forgot toask.”“Like Sofy,” Damon

retorted.“Is she enjoying her

studies?” Sasha presseddeterminedly. Damon wasn'tgoing to get off that easily.“Sheseemedhappyinherlastletter, but I sometimeswonder if she tells me

everything.”“Sofy's always happy,”

Damonmuttered.As if therewere something vaguelyoffensive about that. “Sheasksaboutyoualot.”“Doesshe?”“Oh yes. Every time a

noble traveller arrives incourt, having passed withinscent ofValhanan, she neverfailstocornerhimandaskfornewsofyou.”Sasha smiled. “But she's

well?Her last letter spokeofAlythia's wedding. Sheseemedveryexcited.”“Not nearly as excited as

Alythia,” said Damon. Androlled onto his back,appearingtoabandonhopeofsleep,atleastforthemoment.“Butyes,Sofyishelpingwiththe preparations. Alythiascolds her, and tries to beupsetatherinterference…shewas unhappy with Sofy'ssuggestions for the ordering

of vows and ceremonies,thinking that she knows bestin everything. But of course,on reflection, she agreed thatSofy's ideas were best. Asalways.”For all Sasha's differences

with Damon, they shared acommon affection for theiryounger sister Sofy. It wasmostly thanks to Sofy'smediation that Damon andSasha had arrived at theirpresent truce. Sasha was yet

to be convinced of Sofy'sfaith in Damon, but she hadconceded that her previous,less flattering impressions ofhim had been wide of themark. But then, that wasSofy, always intervening,always drawing compromisefrom the most hardened ofopinions.“And the holy fathers are

pleased with the weddingpreparations?” Sasha asked,having heard a little of that

controversy.“It's ridiculous,” Damon

sighed. “Father Wynal nowproteststhatthearrangementsare not in full accordancewiththescripture,butAlythiaprotests that she wants atraditional Lenay weddinglike Marya and Petrynahad…”“Marya and Petryna's

weddings were anything buttraditional,”Sashasnorted.“Well, they had the fire

and the dancing with handpainting…”“That's hanei, Damon,”

Sashacorrected.“Andthefireis tempyr, the purifier, thedoorbetweenstatesofbeing.It symbolises a couple'stransition into married life,theathelyn,thedestructionofthe old, making way for thenew.It'sthefoundationoftheGoeren-yai view of theuniverse.”“Sounds serrin,” Damon

remarked, with less interestthanSashamighthavehoped.The ignorance of so manyVerenthanes toward the oldwaysdisgustedher.Theyhadbeen their ways too, ahundredyearsbefore.“Serrin and Goeren-yai

beliefhasmuchincommon,”Sasha agreed, keeping hertemper in check. Outburstsand lectures would serve nogoodpurpose,shetoldherselffirmly. “It's one reason the

Goeren-yai and serrin havehadsuchgoodrelationsforsolong.”“Anyhow,” Damon said

dismissively. “Alythia thinksit's pretty, and the handpainting—thehanei—is.Andso much more glamorousthan a traditionalVerenthanewedding.”“I'm glad I'm not the only

one who thinks so,” Sashasaid sourly. “Verenthaneshave to be the most morbid

bunch,Damon.Ihearinsomeparts of the Bacosh and therest of the lowlands, womenaren't evenallowed todance.Canyouimagine?”“I can't imagine,” Damon

admitted, frowning at theceiling. “But then, being aVerenthane means differentthings from one land toanother. Lenayinwill alwaysbeLenayin.ThatisonethingGoeren-yai and Verenthaneshallalwayshaveincommon

in this land. I think I shallalwayshavemoreincommonwithaLenayGoeren-yaithanwithalowlandsVerenthane.”“We'll see if you still

believe inLenaybrotherhoodshould you have themisfortune to encounterFamily Telgar on this ride,”Sashasaiddarkly.“Themen of the north are

brave,” Damon said shortly.“Iwon'tprejudgethem.”“It's not their bravery I

question,” said Sasha. “It'stheirhumanity.”Damon made an annoyed

face,lookingacrossthespacebetween their beds.“Seriously, Sasha, need youalways pick a fight? You ofall people who can afford itleast. I'm well aware whatyou think of the Verenthanenorth, you don't need to hurlitatmeateveryopportunity.Icanformmyownopinions.”Sasha bit her tongue with

difficulty. “And how isMyklas?” she asked,determinedtoprovetoherselfthat she could simply moveon and not spill blood uponthe floor. Kessligh would beproud.“Well,” said Damon, with

a note to his voice thatsuggested he too wassurprised at the ease of hisvictory. “He'll become a fineswordsman.He'sbetterthanIwas, at his age. Better than

Koenyg,maybe. It'scertainlynot from hard work. It mustbetalent.”“Some things can't be

taught,”saidSasha,puttingahand behind her head uponthe pillow. The air was coldupon her arm, whatever herundershirt and the fadingwarmth of the fire's embers.Butbeneaththeheavyweightof skins and blankets, thewarmthwasdelicious.Damon gave her a long,

curious glance, the fireplaceilluminating one half of hisface upon the pillows. “Iheard that you fought,” hesaid.“Lastsummer,whentheCherrovan pressed Hadrynhard. I heard tell of somestories.Deedsofyours.”“Alllies.”“The stories were greatly

in your favour,” Damonadded.“Then they were all true,”

Sasha corrected, with a faint

smile. The incursion hadbeen, for the most part, yetanother ridiculous waste ofCherrovan life. A newchieftain had required ablooding,thestorywent.Anda blooding he had received,mostofithisown.SurelytheCherrovan had not been sostupid during the centurieswhen theyhadruledLenayinand all the mountainkingdomsastheirown.“I had doubted your

abilities, once,” said Damon.“Evenwith Kessligh as youruman…I'd thought he'd onlychosen you for otherpurposes. But the menbearing these stories arehonest. It seems I wasmistaken.AndIapologise.”Sasha gazed across at him

with great surprise. Andsmiled.Sofyhad always toldher to try being nice toDamon, rather than arguingwith him all the time. Good

things will come of it, she'dinsisted. And once again, itseemed, her little sister wasright. “Apology accepted,”she said graciously. “You'renot the only man to makesuch a judgment. There arethousands who believe such,upinthenorth.”Damon snorted. Then,

“Has Kessligh told you ofyour standard? One storycame from a man who washimself amaster swordsman.

He said he'd never seenanythinglikeit.”Sashasighed.“Praise from

Kessligh is rare. He hatescomplacency.”“Can you best him

sparring?”“Sometimes. Maybe one

roundinthree.Moreongooddays, less on others.” ButDamon looked veryimpressed. Besting Kesslighatallwassaidtobeaworthyachievement. Most men

would have been happywithone round in ten. But then,for those who did not fightwith the svaalverd, itwas nofaircontest.“I still don't see how it's

possible,”Damonsaid,withafaintshakeofhishead.“Forawoman. I have bested threeCherrovan warriors incombat. Combat isexhausting, for the fittest,strongestmen.”Never“frightening,”Sasha

reflected. No Lenay manwould ever admit so. “Yes,but youwaste strength whenyou fight,” she told him.“Hathaal, serrin call it.There's no direct translationin Lenay…energy, perhaps.Ormaybealifeforce,thoughserrin have too many namesfor that to count. Asymmetry. A power derivedfrom form, not bulk. Thestraight, sturdy tree is morehathaalthanthecrookedone,

even if they are both as tall.You are stronger than me.But using svaalverd, I ammore hathaal. And youcannottouchme.”Damon snorted. “So

confident are you. We'veneversparred.”“Tomorrow, perhaps?”

Sashasaidmildly.“We ride first thing in the

morning.”“Convenient.”“Youknowmuchofserrin

lore,” Damon remarked,ignoringherbarbs.“Of course. I am Nasi-

Keth.”“Doyoulovetheserrin?”Sasha frowned. Footsteps

creaked in the corridoroutside, the last of therevellers coming upstairs totheir beds. The dying firemanagedonelast,feeblepop.“I've yet to meet a bad orunpleasant one,” she saidafteramoment.

“That doesn't answer myquestion.”And it was not, Sasha

knew, such an innocentquestion.Therewaswarafootbetween the Bacosh andneighbouring Saalshen.Visiting merchants fuelled awildfire of rumour, serrintravellers had been rare oflate, and Kessligh's moodgrim.Shedidn't like to thinkon it. There had been badnewsfromtheBacoshbefore

—for many, many centuries,in fact, one endlesssuccessionof terrible internalwarsoverpower,prestigeandmatters of faith. Those hadcome and gone. Surely theselatest rumblings wouldfollow.“Theserrinareagoodand

decentpeople,”sheanswered.“Muchoftheirlore,skillsandtrades has improved humanlives beyond measure, fromirrigation to building to

medicines and midwifery…sometimes Iwonder howweever managed without them.Anyonewhowouldmakewaron them will not gain mysympathy.”“Theyliveonlandsthatare

nottheirs,”Damonrespondedflatly. “Many includeVerenthane holy sites. SitesofthebirthofVerenthaneismitself. The Bacosh are theeldest and most powerful ofVerenthane peoples, they'll

notletthematterrest.”Sasharolled beneath her covers tofix her brother with analarmedgaze.“What have you heard?”

sheaskedaccusingly.Damonshrugged,hismoodsombre.“Thereismuchanger.Talk

of the Verenthanebrotherhood uniting to takebacktheholylands.”In all recent history, the

Bacosh had only been unitedonce. The man who

accomplished it, Leyvaan ofRhodaan, had named himselfking, and repaid the serrinwho'd assisted his rise withinvasion and slaughter. Theserrin response had beendevastating, crushingLeyvaan and his armies, andtaking the three nearestBacosh provinces forthemselves. That had beentwocenturiesago,andtoday,the so-called “SaalshenBacosh” remained in serrin

hands. Many in thepriesthood called those landsholy, andwanted them back,outoftheclutchesofgodless,paganserrin.“Such talk has existed

since Leyvaan the Foolcreatedthewholemessinthefirst place,” Sasha retorted.“The Saalshen Bacosh is ahappy place. The onlyunhappy people are thoseoutsiderswhoresentthatfact.Besides, there is no

Verenthane brotherhood. It'samyth.”“Even so,” Damon said

tiredly. “People talk, is all.Perhaps it will fade, I hopeso.Wehave enough troublesin Lenayin without lowlandsconcernsthrustuponusalso.”“Hear hear,” Sasha

murmured. But Kessligh'swords remained with her:“War is in the air. Us oldwarhorsescansmellit.”“You're not going to ask

after Father's well-beingalso?” Damon queried intothatsilence.“No,” said Sasha. And

tucked her warm, heavyblankets more firmly downabout her neck. “Father hasadvisorsenoughtoseetothatalready.”

JARYD NYVAR RODE at theheadof theFalconGuardsasthe road wound uphill fromBaerlyn, with Prince Damonat his left stirrup. Themorning dawned bright andclear across rugged hillsidesof thick forest and sparklingdew. Cold air nipped at his

cheeks, and the steamingbreath of horse and menmingledaboutthecolumn,sothat it moved along the roadlike some great, puffingbeast.Thelandinthesepartswas as beautiful as Jaryd'snative Tyree. Birds sang inthe trees,andon thewayoutof town, a pair of handsomedeer had startled across theroad.At the distance of perhaps

one fold from Baerlyn, they

encountered a pair of riderswaiting for themon the roadbeside a narrow trail throughthe trees. KesslighCronenverdt and his bratuman.That trail, then,wouldlead to their horse ranch inthe wilds. Prince Damonacknowledged them with awave, which both returned.They fell into line severalplaces further back, in plaincloaks to ward the morningchill, theirback-worn swords

invisible beneath those folds.An unremarkable and plain-looking pair, they seemed,amidst a column of Tyreegreen-and-gold, gleamingsilver helms and polishedboots. Unremarkable, thatwas, but for their horses—both stallions, one light bay,the girl's a charcoal black,andbothbeautifultobehold.It was a reminder of

Cronenverdt'spastservice,ofthe debt owed to him by the

king. Jaryd had heard themutterings of his father'smen, that Cronenverdt waslittlemorethanahiredswordwho had commanded fromthe king a steep ransom forhis services. Jaryd thought itsomewhat rich for wealthynobles to accuse Kessligh ofbeing a mercenaryconsidering the plainness ofthemanlivingouthereinthewilds with his uma.Cronenverdt could have

commanded a far larger sumand lived in agrandholding,with lands and gardens andprospectivewivesclamouringfor his hand. Instead, whenPrince Krystoff had met anunfortunate end, he'd left theking's service and asked fornothing more than a grief-stricken, impossible brat of aprincess to replace the umahe'dlost,andsomehorses.Jaryd thought it far more

likely thathis fellownobility

were jealous of the man,partly for hisaccomplishments, and partlyfor the way in which heshowed up their expensivetastes. It was surely notunreasonable thatamanwhohad freelygiven his services,insteadofbeingbornintotheobligation of service, shouldreceive some gift in return?How to criticise such aman,whodidnotplaybytherulesthat others understood? No

wonder he made so manyenemies amongst the rulingclasses.After a while riding along

the forested hillside, PrinceDamon fell back in thecolumntotalkwithKessligh.Lieutenant Reynan took hisplaceatJaryd'sside.“The brat was up before

dawn,” said the lieutenant,rubbing sleepy eyes beneathhis helm. “I'd thought tofollow her, but that horse of

hersisfastanddoesn'tmindanight-time torch. Mine getsallflightynearaflame.”Jaryd frowned at him.

LieutenantReynanPelynwasthe brother of Lord TymethPelyn, head of one of thetwenty-threenoblefamiliesofTyree, and close allies ofFamilyNyvar. Hewas a bigman,witharoundhead,smalleyes,andabarelydiscerniblechin.Hehadnot servedwiththeFalconGuardsforlong—

barely a year, in fact, just ashort time longer than Jarydhad been in command. Jaryddid not think that the menwereparticularlyfondofhim.“You'd follow her to her

home?”Jarydasked.Hekepthis voice low, and therewaslittle chance of anyoneoverhearing above the stampof hooves and janglingharnesses.Reynan shrugged. “Lord

Tymeth told me to keep a

close watch on her at alltimes. I'm keeping a closewatch.”“So much effort for one

girl,” Jaryd mused. “Onemight think your brotheractuallybelievesthetalestheGoeren-yai tell about herswordwork.”“It's not her sword that's

the bother,” Reynan saiddarkly. “That little bitchcauses enough trouble withtheGoeren-yai as is, and the

king's gone too teary-eyedsince Prince Krystoff's deathtodoanythingaboutit.”“Do about it?” said Jaryd.

“Lieutenant, who saidanything about doingsomethingaboutit?”“My Lord brother said to

keep a close eye on her,”Reynansaidstubbornly,“andthat'swhat I'lldo.Makesureshe doesn't cause anytrouble.”“She's just a girl,” Jaryd

said shortly. “How muchtrouble can she cause?” Andwhy,he thought,be somuchmore worried about her thanabout Cronenverdt?Cronenverdt held the realpower, surely. The brat wasjust a distraction. Adistraction for Cronenverdthimself, some said, in ameaningfulway.Aplaythingfor a man who'd developedstrange tastes in sword-wielding women while

amongst the serrin andNasi-Keth of Petrodor. Someclaimed he wished to sire asonfromher,whomightthenclaim the throne. Surely thenobles of Tyree did notbelievesuchnonsense?Therewere so many before her inthe line of succession, afterall…Reynan gave his

commander one of thoseweary, superior, adult looksthat Jaryd disliked so much.

“Never you mind, MasterJaryd,” he said tiredly. “Youjustconcernyourselfwiththeroad ahead, and leave theother business to me. Justremember to call on me ifyou need any advice—you'rea fine warrior, Master, butolder heads have ridden thisroadbefore.”“I have plenty of advice

from Captain Tyrun,” Jarydreplied,annoyedby theolderman's patronising tone. “He's

ridden these roads far moreoftenthanyou.”Reynan's face hardened.

“Master Jaryd,” he said in alow,harshvoice,“thatmanisnot noble born. He's apeasant, little better than apagan…”“Captain Tyrun is a true

Verenthane and a veteranwarrior!” Jaryd retorted inrising temper. “He rose fromlowly status because he wasthebest,as is the tradition in

the Guard! Do you questionthat tradition, LieutenantReynan?”Reynan's jaw clenched. So

thatwasthesorespot,andthereason why the other mendisliked him. A lieutenant,after just one year. True,Jarydwasincommandafterashorter period, but he washeirtoallTyree,andmadenobones that Captain Tyrunremainedintruecommand.“No,” Reynan bit out. “I

wouldmerely advise,MasterJaryd, that you give someseriousthoughttowhereyourfuture interests lie, foryourselfandforTyree.”

It was midday before thecolumn took its first rest, themen dismounting upon abroad, open shoulder of theRyshaardRiver.KesslighandSasha found a large rock in

the rivershallowsandspreadouttheirfood,whilstPegandTerjellyn remained on theshore with a handler. Horsessplashed in the shallowsnearby, drinking deep, andmengatheredtosharerations.Acrossthewide,wildbend

of river, cliffs rose near-vertical in a broken, granitewall. Atop the cliff, treeslined the high ridge. Abovethose,aneaglecircled.Sashashaded her eyes against the

bright sun as she ate, gazingupward.“Oh look!” she exclaimed.

“That's a silvertip. She musthave a nest up theresomewhere. There must begoodfishingintheriver.”“How do you know it's a

she?”“I don't. But Lenay men

have this silly habit ofassuming every dangerousanimal is a he, when in factthe females are usuallymore

dangerous.”High above, the eagle

cried. Across the riverbank,men were gazing skyward,andpointing.Goeren-yaimenin particular had a love ofwildthings,andbirdsofpreyhad a special place in theirhearts. “Do silvertip eagleshave a legend to go withthem?”Kesslighaskedwryly.Sasha frowned as she

thoughtaboutit,watchingtheeagle's circling flight. “Not

that I can recall. Although itis said that a white-headedeagleswoopeddowntocarryHyathon the Warrior awayfrom the fire mountain toescape the dark spirits. Butwhite-headedeaglesaremuchbiggerthansilvertips.”“All nonsense,” Kessligh

pronounced, and took a biteofhisroll.“Why?” Sasha demanded.

“Just because it's not whatyoubelieve?”

“Sasha,” Kessligh saidaroundhismouthful,“ifyou'dseenasmanypeoplekilledasI have, all because one ofthem believes this thing andthe other believes this otherthing, you wouldn't think itwas all so harmless. Talesand legends are fun, butbeliefs, Sasha. Beliefs aredangerous. Be very carefulwhat you believe in, forbeliefs are far moredangerousthanswords.”

“And you believe in theNasi-Keth,” Sasha retorted.“That makes you just asdangerous and misguided,doesn'tit?”Kessligh nodded,

vigorously. “Aye. But theNasi-Kethtaketheirlearningsfromtheserrin,andtheserrinsimply don't think like us.They don't believe in truth.They don't believe inanythingtheycan'tprove,andthey won't construct these

elaborate fantasies withwhich to advance their ownpower and kill each other.That's thewhole point of theNasi-Keth, Sasha—it's anattempt to help humans tothink rationally. And that'sdifficult, I know, becausehumans are fundamentallyirrational.Butit'sworthatry,don'tyouthink?”“Hmmph,” said Sasha,

chewing her own mouthful.“What'srational?”

“Exactly the question theserrin ask each otherconstantly.”“And what's irrational

about the Goeren-yaibeliefs?” Sasha continued.“It's rational, surely, thatpeoplesurviveaswellastheycan? Goeren-yai legends tellus much about these lands,andtheanimals,andthewayspeople can live and survivewell out here.And the serrinhave come here for centuries

—they find Goeren-yaiculture fascinating! So whyshould you, who takes hisinspirationfromtheserrin,besodismissive?”“I'm not dismissive of the

process, Sasha, just theconclusions.I'mdismissiveofany culture that thinks itknowseverything.”“TheGoeren-yaidon't…!”Kesslighcutheroffwitha

raised hand. “I'm dismissiveofanypersonwholiveshisor

her life like a frog down awell—all it knows is thatwell,andthosewalls,withnointerest in what lies outside.I'mtryingtomakeyouthink,Sasha. That's all I've evertried to do. That's all theNasi-Keth as a whole haveever tried to do. To makepeople think before theycommit some terrible evil inthe name of their varioustruths, if it is at all possiblethattheymightbewrong.”

“Aye,”Sashareplied,“wellmaybe that's the differencebetween me and you. Youlead with your head, I leadwithmyheart.”“Hearts can be rational

too,” said Kessligh. “Theyjust need a little training.”Sashaknewbetter thantotryand get the last word in.“How was Damon lastnight?” he asked then,changingthesubject.“Nervous,” she said. “He

slept a while, I think. Histemper's short, but that'snormal. Best not to pushhim.”“With any luck, he won't

make me. He's second fromthe throne, in truth. It's besthe learned to dealwith thesekindsofthingsonhisown.”Sasha stifled a laugh

behind her hand. “Damon.King!” She swallowed amouthful,shakingherheadindisbelief.“Ican'timagineit.”

“Men have similardifficultypicturingyouasmyuma,” Kessligh replied,unmovedbyherhumour.Hiseyes flicked toward theriverbank. Sasha looked, andsaw Master Jaryd Nyvartalking animatedly with acorporal. Their conversationwas about swordplay by thelookoftheirmovinghands.Sasha snorted. “Only

because those men havenever thought women good

for anything but babies andhousework.”“What'swrongwithbabies

and housework?” Kesslighsaidwithafaintsmile.Sasha shrugged

expansively. It was pointlessto get annoyed. Kesslighsimply liked contradictingher.Kessligh swallowed his

mouthful. “Before I came toLenayin, I hadn't thoughtwomen good for much but

babiesandhousework.”Sashafrownedathim.“Oh

come on! There are serrineverywhere in Petrodor!What about all of thesewonderful serrin women youkeep talking about, the onesyou studied with as a Nasi-Kethumayourself?”“Serrin women, exactly,”

saidKessligh around anotherbite. “Petrodor has a veryconservative branch ofVerenthane belief where

women are concerned. Mymother died when I wasyoung and from then on theNasi-Kethweremy family. Isawmany serrinwomen, butthe human women I knewwere very fixed in theirnotionofwhat a realwomanwas. Even when I rode toLenayin for the war, I didn'tsee Lenay women as muchdifferent.It'sonlywhenImetyouthatItrulyrealisedthatahumanwomanmightbeborn

with the aptitude to be myuma.”Sasha smiled. “Well at

least I know what kind ofbehaviourimpressesthegreatKessligh Cronenverdt—brattish,noisyandoveractive.Icouldrevert,ifyoulike?”“Revert?” Kessligh asked

in mock surprise. Sashakickedhimlightlyonhisbootand scowled. “My point,”Kessligh continued, “is thatpeopleneverknowwhatthey

shall be, and how they shallrespond, until themoment oftesting arrives. I can assureyouthatveryfewofmyNasi-Keth elders and peerssuspected that I could rise tosuch heights from mybeginnings. As a student Iwas quiet, uncooperative andsolitary. I loved serrinteachings because theyseemedtometoofferthebestsolution I'd yet seen to allhumanity'sobviousills.

“But I was alwaysfrustrated that neither myuman nor my other tutorsseemed to grasp theimplications of thoseteachings fully. And so Ienjoyed the company of theserrin more than humans.Serrin never judge. Throughthem I learned to see theworldasitis,andmyselfasIam, rather thanwhat Imightwant or expect them both tobe. Which is how I

recognisedyourtalents,whileother men would not. Irealised I was wrong abouthuman women. Many mencannot admit this aboutthemselves.“Alwaysbeawarethatyou

maybewrong,Sasha—aboutanything and everything. Irose to Commander ofArmiesduringtheGreatWarsimply because I learnedfrom my mistakes, and themistakesofothers, andwhen

something did not work, Istopped doing it and didsomething else. Manycommanders did not, due topride or stubbornness, andkilled not only themselves,butmany goodmen as well.The unquestioned belief inone's own supremacy andrighteousness is the surestroad to ruin yet devised byman.Avoiditatallcosts.”Sasha listened sombrely,

chewing the lastofher lunch

as the river bubbled abouttheir rock. Kessligh did notlectureoften,yetshewasnotsurprised that he chose to doso now. A Hadryn–Tanerynconflict was surely the mostserious calamity she had yetridden into. An uman's rolewas to teach, and to preparehisumafortrialstocome.“Why have the Nasi-Keth

not spread more throughLenayin?” Sasha askedsuddenly. “I mean…you led

Lenayin to victory overChieftain Markield, youriskedyourlifeandbecameaLenay legend—all becauseyou volunteered to comefromPetrodor.Thepopularityof the Nasi-Keth and theserrin was surely never sohighinLenayinas then.Andyet there are so few otherNasi-Kethhere.”Kesslighnoddedslowly,as

if faintly surprised at thequestion. “Your father tried,”

he said. “He believes inprovidence, insignsfromthegods. When Markield wasbeaten, your father saw thatthe gods favoured the Nasi-Keth, and thus surely theyfavoured the teachings ofSaalshen. That was a timewhen the king was leastpersuaded by the northernfanatics, since the north hadfailed to defeat the invasionwithouthelpasthey'dinsistedtheywould,andhadprotested

my ascension to commanderat every turn. Trade withSaalshen improveddramatically, and manysenior serrin were invited tovisit the capital. And, ofcourse, he declared thatKrystoff would be my uma,binding the kingdom and theNasi-Keth inextricablytogether.“But the response of the

Verenthanes was not good,especially in the north. And

precious fewNasi-Keth fromPetrodorhavefelt inspired tofollowme to the highlands.”He shrugged. “Perhaps itwould have been differenthad Krystoff lived. ThenLenayin would have had aking both Verenthane andNasi-Keth,asare somany inPetrodor.”“Andwe have the Hadryn

to thank that it didn'thappen,”Sashamuttered.Kessligh fixed her with a

hard stare. “Sasha. Whathappened to Krystoff is oldhistory.Ithurtmeasmuchasit hurt you. But we're ridinginto this mess now on theking's business, and the kingmustbeimpartial.Ifyoufeelthat will be a problem foryou, best that you tell menow.”“They killed him,” Sasha

said darkly. “Not by theirownhands,butnearly.”“I know,” said Kessligh.

“Itchangesnothing.”“And who are you to be

accusing me of partisanloyalties?” Sasha retorted.“SaalshenislosingcreditfastwithFather,anddoubtlesstheNasi-Keth with them. Andnow you come on this rideclaiming to act in Father'sinterests?”“I have always been your

father's servant,” Kesslighsaidflatly.“I'vefoughtinhisservice since I rode to

Lenayinthirtyyearsago.”“And should Father act

against the Nasi-Keth?”Sasha persisted. “Whatthen?”“Then,” said Kessligh, “I

shallcrossthatbridgewhenIcometoit.”

CAMPFIRES LIT SMALL

CIRCLESOFLIGHTintheforest,aleapingdanceoftreetrunksand long, flickeringshadows.Men gathered about theirfiresandcooked,whileotherstended to horses, or mendedworn gear. There was cloudoverhead, the wind was

gentle from the south, andSasha knew it would notgrowsocoldtonight.Butshemissedthestars,heronegreatconsolation for nights upontheroad.“ThereisdisputeoverLord

Krayliss's ancestry,” Damonsaid as the regal party ate.Sasha wolfed her meal withher usual appetite—roastedmeat on skewers, and avegetable raal Kessligh hadwhipped up. Damon,

however, seemed to pick athis food. “I've heard itclaimed thathe'snotactuallyUdalynatall.”To Sasha's surprise, he

looked directly at her. As ifshe, above all others present,would be likely to know.Well, perhaps she would.“His grandmother,” shemanaged about a hotmouthful, seated upon hersaddle with a tin platebalanced in her lap. “So it's

said. But the maternalgrandmother, not thepaternal.”Damon frowned. “That's

important?”“In the old ways, power

passes through the paternalline.Amaternalgrandmotheris the weakest claim toancestry.Butthen,somehaveaccused Krayliss ofoverstatement.” To her left,Captain Tyrun repressed ahumourless laugh. From

acrossthefire,Jarydfrownedatherabovetheflames.“How important is it?”

Damonaskedbluntly.“TobeUdalyn?”“For Krayliss?” Sasha

raised her eyebrows. “Very.Spirits know he gainsprecious little credit amongtheGoeren-yaifromanythingelse.”“To claim ancestry to the

chieftainofadyingclanwhowereonce in leaguewith the

Cherrovan?” Damon lookeddubious.Sasha could not resist a

glancearoundtoseewhoelsemight overhear. But theneighbouring fireplaceconversations were toodistant,andtoojovial,forthattobe likely. “People in theseparts see it differently,” shesaidwarningly.Damon made a dismissive

gesture.“I'llneverunderstandit,” he said darkly. “This

obsession with the Udalyn.They'vebarelyemergedfromtheir valley for a century,have been little good toanyone, yet Goeren-yai thelengthandbreadthofLenayinworshiptheirname.”Hetookareluctantbiteofhismeat.Sasha glanced atKessligh,

seated to her right.He gazedintotheflamesasheate.Hiseyeswereunfocused,asifhesaw the ghosts of pastmemories dancing amongst

the coals. “Best perhaps thatyou tell your brother thatstory,”hesaidthen,distantly.“We ride squarely into thismatter, much unresolved.Bestthatheunderstands.”Sasha nodded. “I agree.

But I think one here mighttell it better than I.” Shelooked across to CaptainTyrun.Tyrun looked surprised.

“Me, M'Lady? I'mVerenthane, I claim no great

wisdomhere.”“Today at the talleryn

stonesofSpearman'sRidge,”Sasha said, “you showedrespect for the dead. Yourodetowardthesun,soasnottocastyourshadowupontheroadside stones. And yougave the spirit sign.” Tyrunnodded slowly, with newrespect in his eyes. “Thetolerance of TyreeVerenthanesiswellknown.”“Aye, M'Lady,” said

Tyrun, nodding slowly. “Imight know a little. Men ofTyree sit often and speak ofhonour andwar.To speakofsuchmatterswithGoeren-yaianywhere is to speak of theUdalyn.”Damon, Sasha thought,

lookedalittleuncomfortable.Well that he should, shethought sourly. To displaysuch ignorance was to admitthat he had never sat andtalked with Goeren-yai

warriors before.Somuch forthe high esteem of FamilyLenayinfortheancientways.“Prior to the Liberation,”

Tyrunbegan,“thereweretwoclansdominatingtheprovincethat is now Hadryn. TheUdalynoccupiedtheeast,andthe Hadryn the west. Theywere similar, yet differentenoughtoprovokeahostilitymany centuries old.Intermarriage between thetwo was punished by the

death of both parents andoffspring. The bloodlineswere kept pure. Northernershave always believed inpurity—once as Goeren-yai,andnowasVerenthanes.“Understand, my Prince,

that the north was once thebedrockofGoeren-yaibelief.Many of the great Lenayheroes of old were from thenorth,menofasteelforgedinbattles against the eternalCherrovan foe, between rival

clans, and with the harshterrainandclimate.But the Cherrovan

warlords were strong, oftendestroying entire Lenayvillages. Tharyn Askar, thegreat Udalyn Chieftain,compromised with theCherrovan in his lands, sothat his people could growhealthy and strong, and notdrained by constant minoruprisings and reprisals. Hedesired liberation from the

Cherrovanalso,butknewthatthe Udalyn had not yet thestrength.“Hemightnothavehad to

compromise if the Hadrynhadn't remained moreinterested in waging war onthe Udalyn than theCherrovan,” Sasha added,sipping water from her tincup.“AsmentellthestoryinBaerlyn, Tharyn tried to joinwith the Hadryn against theCherrovanandsenthissonas

a symbol of trust to theHadryn chieftain EssynTelgar,who'sreputedtohavebeen just as thickheaded asthe present line of Telgars.Essyn had him tortured anddisembowelled alive. TheHadryn claim to have beenkeyinunitingLenayinduringthe Liberation, yet in truth,they prevented its arrival forgenerations.”“Aye,” said Tyrun. “They

tell it much the same in

Tyree.Anyhow,myPrince…therehadbeenaprophecyforgenerations in the north. ItwassaidthatagreatleaderofLenayinwould ride from thesouth, bearing supernaturalpowers, andwould smite theCherrovan from the face ofthe world. When SorosLenayinarrivedattheheadofhis armyof freeLenay clansand lowlands crusaders…”here he glanced at Kessligh,who snorted, “the north

joined his cause in force,forgottheirpettydisputesandrallied beneath the star ofVerenthane.“The Udalyn fought

valiantly, yet Essyn Telgarwas clever. He decreed thatalltheHadrynshouldconvertto Verenthaneism, as didmost of the north, as theybelievedtheVerenthanegodshad fulfilled their prophecyand were just and true. Butthe Udalyn, having the deep

rootsoftheirhomelandvalleyto sustain their traditionsthrough even the hardesttimes,refused.SorosLenayinrewarded Essyn Telgar withLordship of all Hadryn, andasked that the Udalyn swearfealtytohim.Tharynrefused,for his people would neverhavelistenedhadheagreed.“What followed was a

slaughter.” Tyrun paused fora moment, gazing into theflames. About the blazing

fire, none spoke. From aneighbouring fire, men'slaughter carried high on thecool night air. “The unitedVerenthanes of the north fellupon the Udalyn, for Essynpoisoned themindsofall thenorth against them, callingthem traitors, friends of theCherrovanandenemiesofthenew light of salvation. Therewere no prisoners taken, norofferedconversionsaccepted.There was only murder—of

men, women and children. Iam a proud Verenthane, myPrince. I believe that the starof Verenthane has been ablessing of unity and peaceupon this land.But truly, thefateof theUdalyn, I believe,was surely Verenthane'sdarkesthour.”Damon met the captain's

sombre gaze across the fire.Sasha could read hisexpressionwellenoughtoseethat he had not heard this

history told with suchconfidence by a Verenthaneman. Most Verenthanesdenied the accusations ofHadryn atrocities against theUdalyn,andmanyblamedtheUdalyn for bringing theirdeclineuponthemselves.“Finally,allthatwasleftof

the Udalyn was theirancestral valley,” Tyruncontinued. “Here,versionsofthestorydiffer.SomesaythatKing Soros intervened and

gave the Udalyn one lastchance to convert, or faceannihilation. Others say thathe did nothing. Yet othersdefend King Soros, sayingthat his armywasweary andhehadnotyet beencrownedking, so he had no meanswith which to stop theslaughter. But whatever thetruth, the Udalyn did notconvert, and the unitedVerenthane north pressed theattackintothevalley.

“The Udalyn wereoutnumbered twenty to one,atbest.Butwithinthevalley'snarrow confines, theirdefences gained hope. Overmany days and nights, theUdalyn made a fightingretreat up the length of theirvalley,andtheirenemiespaida high price for every strideadvanced.Finally,themoraleof the Verenthane northbegan to wane, for theUdalyn slew five and more

attackers for every loss, sogreat was their desire tosurvive as a people and passon their traditions to thenextgeneration.“Essyn Telgar saw his

glorious victory slippingaway, as his men refused toadvance further.He rode outbeforetheUdalynandofferedthat they could convert toVerenthaneismandsavetheirlives. In reply, the Udalyncharged, full of fury and

vengeance.Theycrashedintoan army that was still tentimes their number and splitthemdownthecentre.TharynAskar himself, it is told,carvedhiswaythroughtenofEssyn's personal guard andfamily to slay Essyn Telgarby his own hand, beforefalling dead from wounds.The remaining Verenthanesbroke and ran, and theUdalyn survived—the last,small pocket of Goeren-yai

defianceinaVerenthanesea.“Several timesintheyears

tofollow,successiveLordsofHadrynattempted to rid theirland of their ancient enemy.Each time, though greatlyoutnumbered, the Udalynwere victorious. ThenChaydenLenayincametothethrone—your esteemedgrandfather, Prince Damon,M'Lady Sashandra. He sawhow the fate of the Udalynhad aroused the passions of

all Lenay Goeren-yai, andforbid the Telgars ofHadrynto attack the Udalyn again.Since that time, the Hadrynhave left the Valley of theUdalyn largely alone underKing's orders—a policycontinuedtothisdaybyyourfather, my Prince, M'Lady.AndIpraythatitshallalwaysbesuch.”Sasha took a skewer of

cookingmeatfromthefirebyitswoodhandleandgaveitto

Tyrun—rewardforatalewelltold. Tyrun gave a smallsmileofthanks.“And now Lord Krayliss

attempts to play the Udalyncard once more,” Damonsaid.His own food remainedlargely untouched upon hisplate. “Why? What is togain?”“The Udalyn are the one

issue,” Sasha replied, “theone singular thing, uponwhich all Goeren-yai can

agree.Theyareheroes.Theyare the very symbol ofGoeren-yai pride, courageand thewill to survive in theface of advancing foreignreligions. Krayliss claims torepresent the old ways, andtheUdalynflythatbannerfarbetter than he.He dreams ofan age long past, before thecomingofVerenthanes,whenLenayinwaswildandfree.”“And a bloody, barbarian

rabble,” said Kessligh, with

his usual diplomacy. Sashaknew well enough whatKessligh thought of suchromanticism…andofherownundeniableattractiontoit.She shrugged, toowise by

now to respondwith temper.“Aye,” she said. “Kraylisswould bring back those daysifhecould, thegoodand thebad.ButmostGoeren-yaiaretoo smart for that. Lowlandstradeisprosperousandmanyhave benefited. So long as

Baen-Tardoesnotattempt toconvert them by force orcoercion, they care not if thetowns all pray to lowlandsgods.And soKrayliss growsdesperate. He needs theUdalyn. He is the lastremaining Goeren-yai lord—although he would stylehimself as chieftain—and heclaims blood ties to TharynAskarhimself.OnsuchcreditdoesheasktheGoeren-yaiofallLenayintolovehim.”

“Andnowtherecomestalkof lowlands war,” saidKessligh.Therewasanotetohisvoice,andhisexpression,that Sasha did not like. Itsuggested a certainexasperation. A dark,brooding disgust. Well…shewas disgusted too, by foolslike the Rashyds andKraylisses alike. Yet shedoubted if thatwere theonlytarget of Kessligh's distaste.“To reclaimVerenthane holy

lands in theBacosh, no less.As well invade the moon toreclaim its silver. Bacosh,Torovan, it's all lowlands—Verenthane—and a worldaway. Folks here aren'tinterested. And Kraylissseeksanadvantage.”Damon seemed about to

reply, but Sasha cut him off.“It's worse than that,” shesaid with force, somewhatannoyed with her uman foroversimplifying. “Don't you

see?Kraylissseekstoturntheentire province of Taneryndown the path of theUdalynbefore them. He's killed theGreat Lord of Hadryn, thatmuch seems clear. Just asTharyn Askar, his ancestor,killedEssynTelgaracenturybefore. He tries to relive oldGoeren-yaiglories.”“Taneryn is a province

unto itself,” Damon replied,frowning.“TheValleyof theUdalyn is entirely within the

borders of Hadryn province.Few from outside have evenmetoneoftheUdalyn.”Sashashrugged.“Thatonly

makes the Udalyn legendgrow stronger. Damon,Hadryn is powerful. All thenorthern Verenthaneprovincesare.EndlessbattlesagainstCherrovanincursions,and favourable taxation fromBaen-Tar, have made themso. Few other provinces canmatchthemforsheerforceof

arms, leastofallquiet, rusticTaneryn. Most Tanerynsknow this. For all theirbravery, they're not stupid.Theywon'tfollowKraylisstopointless suicide against thearmoured cavalry of thenorth, all for naught but thegreater glory of Kraylisshimself.TheyseeKraylissforwhathe is—avain,pompousfool,whooffersthemnothingbut rhetoric, poverty and anearlygrave.

“But that does not meanthey will like father'slowlandswaranybetter.Andit does not mean they willlikehavingKrayliss removedand a friendly, Verenthanelord appointed by Baen-Tar.Krayliss is a fool, but he isthe only Goeren-yai greatlord. A people can becomedesperate,feelingthatnoonelistens to their concerns; thatthere are none to representtheminthehallsofpower.If

Kraylissgainsmartyrdom,hecould be farmore popular indeath than he ever managedinlife.”Damongazed into thefire,

considering that. To her left,SashasawthatCaptainTyrunwas considering her withnarrowed eyes. Studying her,as if measuring her forsomething. She found itstrangely disconcerting andreturned tentativeattention toher food. Jaryd said nothing.

Heseemed little interested inany matter that did notinvolvetournamentsorgossipandofferednoopinions.“Thank you,” Damon said

then. “To both of you.”LookingatSasha,andthenatTyrun.“Ishallthinkonthis.”Kesslighstabbedatthefire

once more, raising anothercloud of swirling sparks.Hisexpression boded nothinggood.

The following morning, thecolumn passed a simplemarker indicating the borderbetween Valhanan andTaneryn.Themorningwasanovercast grey, and a coldwind accompanied the cloudmovinginfromtheeast.Theroadcrestedanewridge,everhigher than the last, andSasha gained her first clearview of the Marashyn

Ranges, spreading their dark,jagged line across therumpled horizon from northtonortheast.The land swelled more

steeply here than inValhanan, with great,dramatic thrusts of hillsides,crowned with sharp ridges,and broken with eruptingoutcropsofdarkstone.The road to Garallyn, the

Taneryn capital, was eerilyfree of travellers.

Occasionally at a clearing inthetreestherewouldappearawooden farmhouse, crossedby fences of wood or stone.But therewas no sign of theoccupants and all windowsand doors remained tightlyshut. Returning scoutsreported no sign of activityanywhere…until one mancame galloping breathlesslyalong the road and reportedthe horror that had befallenPerys.

The column made goodtime then, leaving the roadfor a horsetrail along anundulating, forested hillside.SasharodeatKessligh's rear,heart thumping unpleasantly,in amanner that had little todo with exertion. Perys wasthe southern-most Taneryntown bordering Hadryn.ThereweremenofHadrynonthe border who had claimedtheselandsforcenturies.Andnow, it seemed that old

dispute had been consumedbysomethinggreater.The horsetrail climbed for

some considerable distance,affording the occasionalglimpse of valleys and vasthillsides through the trees.Then the ground becamelevel and the trees abruptlyceased, the entire columnemerging upon the fringe oftraditional Perys farmland.The fields lay wide on anopen hillside as the column

descendeda road thatwoundbetween stone paddockwallsand small barns. Gates werebroken open and livestockroamed free along paths.Smoke rose from thesmouldering ruins of severalfarmhouses.Sasha stared at the nearest

pile of ashen debris and sawhoof marks where brownearth tore through the lushgreen grass. Horsemen haddonethis.

Sasha tore her gaze away,allowing Peg an easy rein asshe stared downslope. She'dtravelled to Taneryn before,butnevertoPerys,soclosetothe Hadryn border. It shouldhave been beautiful—theopen hillside was vast,divided into lush pasture,dotted with farmsteads andorchard groves, and roamedby livestock. Below, thehillside narrowed to form along, shoulder ridge with a

lovely collection of rustic,wooden buildings—Perysvillage—occupyingtheuphillhalf of the shoulder. Beyondthat ridge lay a steep gorgewith forested slopes, ruggedandbeautiful.There was smoke rising

from the village, black andsinister.Itscarredtheview,asingle, dark smudge towardthe west, and Hadryn. Now,asthetrailclearedanorchard,a new hillside presented a

scene that chilled Sasha'sheart.Scattered across a

neighbouring field weremotionless shapes on thegrass. Many carcasses, theirblood staining the grass.Sheep,sherealisedwithreliefas the column thunderedcloser, the forward guarddisplaying the royal bannersand the banner of Tyree forall to see.SuddenlyKesslighwas pointing off to the left,

where something dartedbehind one low wall, menacross the column pullingswordsorreadyingcrossbowsupon their saddle horns.Andthen something else becamevisible behind the nearpaddockwallthathadDamonraisingaglovedfistintheairandCaptainTyrunyellingforahalt.They reined up, as the cry

andsignalpassedbackalongthe line of horsemen, horses

tossing and snortingimpatiently as one of theforward guard dismounted,weapondrawn, and ran for alook at the bundled ragsmostly hidden behind thetrailside wall. Whatever hesaw caused him to raise onehand and make theVerenthaneholygestureuponthroat, heart and lips.Impatient, and trusting Peg'sabilities, Sasha urged himinto a little jump across a

runoff trench, and onto theledge alongside the stonewall.Lyinginarowuponthefar

side were ten corpses,bloodied and broken. Men,mostly, Sasha saw past thehorror. Several looked veryyoung.Andatleasttwo,uponcloserinspection,appearedtobe women. Sasha stared, asPeg fretted and fought at thereins, smelling blood andknowing what might likely

follow. Kessligh swung offTerjellyn's back, leaving hishalter in the care of CaptainTyrun, and jogged across tolook, gesturing irritably atSashatoclearherbeastawayfromthewall.She did so, and suddenly

therewere cries from behindthe wall of an adjoiningpaddock—villagers wereemerging,wrapped in raggedcloaks and shawls. They hadseen the banners and were

crying for the king. Mostappeared to be women, withsome children in tow,grieving and wretched.Amidst theforeignsoundsoflocal Taasti, the wails andtears, Sasha heard the onlywords from the locals thatmattered—“Telgar,”“Hadryn”and“Verenthane.”Sasha caught a glimpse of

Master Jaryd's expression,hardwithdisbelief,mutteringsomething now to Captain

Tyrun. Jaryd couldn't believeVerenthanes had done this.For a brief moment, shealmostfeltsorryforhim.Kessligh stood atop the

stone wall by the bodies,looking down at thegruesome wounds, thenglancing about thesurrounding farmland. Eyesnarrowed, as if piecingtogether the previous day'sevents in his mind. Then hegazed down toward the little

town of Perys below, asvillage folk wailed andsobbedabouthisfeet.Oneof thewomennoticed

him and stared upward withwide, tear-streaked eyes. Shegasped and exclaimedsomething in loud, franticTaasti. Others camecrowding, some exclaiming,othersfallingtoakneebeforethe vanquisher of theCherrovan.“Lenay!” Kessligh

demanded. “Who speaksLenay?”Anoldmancameforward,

hisfacehiddeninbedraggledbeard, hunched shoulderswrapped in a shawl. Haltingconversation followed,punctuated withgesticulations and pointing.Several villagers clusteredaboutSashaasshesatastride,onework-wornwomantryingtotouchherboot,murmuringsomething Sasha couldn't

understand.Damon came alongside,

watching with a concernedfrown. “What do they say?”heasked,noddingattheothervillagers.“I don't speak Taasti,”

Sasha said shortly, strainingher ears to overhearKessligh's conversation. Shedidnotwish to lookdownatthewomanbyherboot,headwrapped in a scarf, her eyeslined with hard work, age,

andmorefearsthananycity-bred nobility could possiblyunderstand. Such reverencemadeheruncomfortable.“I heard mention of the

‘Great Spirit’,” Damonpressed, his eyes nowsuspicious.“Whatisthat?”Sasha shot him a look of

disbelief. Damon understoodsomeTaasti?“Kesslighsavedthese people from theCherrovan thirty years ago,”she replied. “The legend of

theGreatSpiritchangesfromregion to region, but it'scommon among all Goeren-yai. People here think theGreat Spirit was Kessligh'sspiritguide.SomepeoplecallittheSynnich.”“Andwhat doyou think?”

Damonaskedpointedly.“Ithinkit'sanicelegend,”

Sasha said blandly, tired offeelingasthoughshewereontrialallthetime.“You don't believe in the

spirits?”“Ididn'tsaythat.”“You only know that you

don'tbelieveinthegods?”“I said I don't follow

them,” Sasha replied with adark, sideways look.“WhetherIbelieveinthemisirrelevant.”“Nottofatheritisn't.”“Aye,” Sasha muttered,

“wellhe'snothere,ishe?”Kessligh jumped from the

wallandswungbackintohis

saddle. “Hadryndid this,”hesaid to Damon withoutpreamble.“They'restillinthetown.Theydon'tappeartobeexpecting trouble from thisdirection,doubtlesstheyhavethe northward approachescovered. I advise we makethempayfortheoversight.”Damon swore beneath his

breath, staring away acrossthe rolling, descendinghillside, as if searching forinspiration. Villagers

crowded about Terjellyn,somesobbing,somepleading.Others approached Peg,Sasha keeping him steadywith a shortened length ofrein as he started and tossedhisheadnervously.“I'llvouchwithyourfather

for the necessity,” saidKessligh,histonehard.Damon gave him a hard

look.“I'mnotconcernedwiththat!”Withenoughtempertoassure Sasha that he truly

meant it. “But it will beVerenthanes attackingVerenthanes. There will berepercussions.”“This is a land grab,”

Kessligh said firmly. “It'sagainst the king's law. IfHadryn nobility have aproblem with Tanerynnobility, it should remainlimited to that. This isopportunism—murder—andillegal by your father's owndecree. It doesn't get any

easierthanthis.”Decisions, he meant.

Judgments. When to fight,and when to kill. The dailybread of princes and kings.Sasha wondered darkly ifDamon would have quite somanydoubtsifthementobefoughtwereGoeren-yai.“Damn it,” Damon

mutteredandreinedhishorseabout,signallingtoJarydandCaptain Tyrun. Thecommandswentoutfromthe

sergeants, formingcompanies.Kessligh pulled Terjellyn

as close to Peg's side aspossible, considering thevillagers. “We'll run the leftflank behind SergeantGarys,” he told her.“Remember you're notarmoured, we're runningreserveforthefrontline.”Sasha nodded, gazing out

across the farmland,wondering at the footing and

the line. She looked down atthe woman by her boot.“Please,mother,”shesaid, inkindness laced withdesperation, “the soldiers aremoving.Pleasemovebackoryou'll be trampled.” Sheleaned down to grasp thewoman's hand, gently. Thereturn graspwas hard,work-hardened fingers clutchinglikeclaws.“I know you, Synnich-

ahn,” said the woman, in

hoarse, broken Lenay. Hereyes were bloodshot red andher earrings were curling,metal spirals that mightdenote a spirit talker.Unusual,forawoman.Sashastared,asherheart skippedabeat. “The line is unbroken,Synnich-ahn.Whatwas oncethe father's shall pass to thedaughter. The time hascome.”The woman moved back

with the others, as horses

jostledpastandlargeportionsof the column broke indifferent directions, spillingthrough the shattered gatesinto broad fields to the leftand right. Kessligh took offdownslope and Sashafollowed,gallopingalong thewinding trail until there wasanother gate in the left wall,and they turned sharplythrough it. The open fieldstretched before them,sloping rightwards, as

Sergeant Garys's contingentran along the upper slope totheir left. Kessligh allowedSasha to pull alongside at agentlecanter,swordout.He pointed his sword,

indicating the vast sweep ofhillside before them. “Whatdoyousee?”“Nospaceforawideline,”

Sasha replied, standing halfupright in the stirrups for abetter look, the wind tossingathertri-braid.“Besttokeep

theminsmallgroups,perhapsfive apiece, following tworoutesofapproach.”“Whynotmore?”Kessligh

asked,voiceraisedabove thethunderofhooves.“There are only so many

good approaches throughbroken terrain. Also ambushspots are limited on the wayin, we only need so manyvantagepoints.”Kessligh nodded. “Also,

see the way the paddock

walls follow the contours ofthe land?” He swept hisswordacrossaforwardarc…and Sasha noticed thatindeed, the stone walls didhold to thehigher ridges andclimbed the steeper folds atright angles.Which was oneof those things that Kesslighcalled thedifferencebetweenknowledge and wisdom—ofcourse she'd always knownthe farmers constructed theirwalls as such, she'd simply

never thought of themilitaryimplications. Most wisdom,Kessligh insisted, wascomprisedofthingsthatmostpeople already knew, butsimply hadn't understood inallitsimplications.“Trustthefarmers, they know the landbetter than we. Follow thewalls,use themasaguide totheland.Andseethisshallowdepression downslope? Ifwefollow it further leftwardsinstead of the direct route to

town, we'll have cover forlonger and gain somesurprise.”“Might they already have

seenus?”Sashaasked.“Perhaps…but I suspect

they'll be watching north forTaneryn reinforcements, notsouth. These are Hadrynvillagers, I'm moderatelysure,notcompanysoldiers.”A low stone wall

approached, Peg andTerjellyn jumping it

comfortably. “You thinkthey've claimed this land forHadryn?”Sashaasked.“I think they've been

awaitinganopportunity foralong time,” Kessligh saiddarkly. “As for what they'veactually proclaimed…we'llknow when we're downthere.”“Who'sinchargenowwith

Lord Rashyd dead? Usyn?”Kessligh nodded. UsynTelgarwasheirtotheHadryn

GreatLordshipandnotmucholderthanherself.“YouthinkUsynorderedthis?”“Ithinkhe'lldenyit.Butso

much in theHadryn–Tanerynconflict just happens bymutual consent of allinvolved.”Leftwards, Sergeant

Garys'scontingentofperhapsthirty horse came to a haltupon an open, sloping fieldandbegan formingup.Sashaand Kessligh reined upslope,

angling past a broad shelf ofdarkrockthatthrustfromthegreen field, forming a minorcliff below which numeroussheepweregrazing.“Back there,” said

Kessligh. “That womancalledyoutheSynnich.”“It was Synnich-ahn,”

Sasha corrected. “Across allthe northern tongues, the“ahn”infersaguide.”“They used to call me

that.”

“Theystilldo.ButI'myouruma. It seems it's fallen tome.”Kessligh looked

displeased. “You shouldn'tfool around with prophecies,Sasha. This kind ofsuperstitiousnonsensecangetyouintodeeptrouble.”Sashastaredathim,aghast.

“How is thismy fault?Whatpossible say can I have overwhat people may choose tobelieve?”

“You've become a symboltotheGoeren-yai,Sasha.Youof all people should knowhowlongthey'vewishedforaroyalGoeren-yai—”“I'm Nasi-Keth, I can't

speak for them!” Sasha cuthimoff,angrily.“And as Nasi-Keth,”

Kesslighreplied,“youshouldrememberthatyouareboundto the Nasi-Keth as much astoanyoneinLenayin.”Sasha snorted in disbelief.

“Why is it that as soon asanyone important saysanything nice to the Goeren-yai, all the Verenthanes areupinarms!”“Becauseitisthenatureof

power to be nervous,”Kessligh said grimly. Theyreached the next low wall,and cleared it together. “Andbecause the ruling class areall Verenthanes and knowonlytoowellwhataGoeren-yai uprising could mean for

themall.”“How could anyone

possibly be stupid enough tothinkIwouldbeinterestedinthat?”Sashademanded.“Because the more

powerful men are, thestupider they become. LordKrayliss threatens exactlythat.And rumoursnowplaceyou at his side. As Ipredicted,ifyourecall.”“Ican'tcontrolwhatpeople

say about me!” Sasha

snapped.“IamwhoIam!”Kesslighdidnot reply.Up

ahead, every man waswatching as they rodeforward. Sasha could see theconfidence in their eyes, andtheirpostureinthesaddle, tosee the great man approach.Manyhadnodoubtgrownupwith their ears filled withstories of the great KesslighCronenverdt. To ride intoconflict of any in thecompany of the great

Kessligh was an honourabovenearlyallelse.A cheer went up as

Kessligh and Sashaapproached, and Sashadecided to pull Peg back alengthandallowallattentionto fall upon her uman.Kesslighwaved his sword inreply. Surely these menweren't to know how muchKessligh hated all theadulation.Notthatheeverletit show—he respected the

pride of Lenay warriors fartoomuch.Letthemhavetheirhero, and cheer when theywantedtocheer.Kesslighhadmore important things toworryabout.“We'll take the rear,”

Kessligh announced to thegroup, meaning himself andSasha, “like the pair ofunarmouredcowardsweare.”A roar of laughter. “We'll becrossing the road to Hadrynon this side, and the

guardpostthere.Ifthey'vegotarchers, remember—don'tcharge, flank. That's whatcavalry'sfor.Getbehindthemandkillthem,noneedtogivethemeasy shots. If they lookundecided, demand theysurrender and save yourselfthe trouble. It'd be lovely ifthey all surrenderedimmediately, but I don'texpect it. As flankers, wehave the perimeter, PrinceDamon shall lead the main

force into the town. He'srelying on us to keep hisflanks and rear secure fromcounterattack. Let's not lethim down. Sergeant Garyshasthelead.”Another cheer went up.

From back at the road, ananswering cheer, nodoubt inreplytoasimilarspeechfromCaptain Tyrun. The rightflank would be led by alieutenantwhosenameSashahadn't yet learned. Kessligh

had said that Damon wouldlead the central attack,Sashareflectedastheymovedasidefor the formation to comepast. Flattery of the princebefore the men—technicallyDamon was leading thecentral charge, but he wouldbeseveralrowsdeepfromthefront,surroundedbyhis littlecontingentofRoyalGuard.To her faint surprise, she

felt the first, genuine stab ofworry. Concern for Damon,

no less. And reprimandedherself a moment later—Damon was a fine horsemanand swordsman…for a non-svaalverd fighter, anyhow.No effort in training wasspared for a Prince ofLenayin.Andhewasthebestprotected soldier in theformation; not easilydistinguishablefromaregularsoldier in his dress—hewouldbefine.“You,” said Kessligh,

pointing to Terjellyn's rear,“stay right here, the wholetime. You're good on yourfeet, but cavalry's a wholedifferent world. Know yourlimitations.And his.”With asharpgesturetoPeg.“I know,” she told him,

meeting his stern gaze ascalmly as possible. “I won'tdo anything stupid. Ipromise.”“Firsttimeforeverything,I

suppose.” But his crooked

smile held a hint of realaffection.Sashafeltherheartswell. He reached out andthey tapped fists. FromKessligh, a rare gestureindeed.Italmostworriedher,that he should choose thismomentforsuchagesture.Ayellthenfromthecentre,

andacrosstherollinghill,thecentral formation moved offdownslope, three lines ofhorsemen following the roadand two additional lines to

either side. Sergeant Garyswavedafistandtheleftflankmoved forward at a canter.As the last of them passedSashaandKessligh'sposition,they tapped heels andfollowed.The low wall they'd

jumped on the way uppresented the first obstacle—armoured Lenay horsemenregularly practised onobstacles twice as high, andcleared it comfortably. The

pace accelerated to a fastcanter, eachof the two lines’leaders scanning intentlyahead, selecting their lineacross the undulatingdownward slope, over walls,past orchards, farmhouses,barns and clusters oflivestock,planningaheadandpredicting events. The leaderof the rightward column hadanother man at his side,holding formation with hisleader, but glancing

continually across at thecentral formation as theycamedownthewindingroad,makingsurethisflankdidnotoutpace,norwereleftbehind.The rear had a certain

freedom,Sashasaw,realisingnow the other reason whyKessligh preferred it, apartfrom his and her lack ofarmour. She could seeeverything without botheringaboutformations—thecentralcolumn upon the right,

weavingandsplitting topassabout another burnedfarmhouse, thebroken, rockyridge over to the far leftwhere the open farmlandappeared to stop, and all thesweeping contours inbetween. The paceaccelerated once more, andshe took the liberty ofgalloping off to Kessligh'sside,togainsomespace.Thehillsidewas flatter for

a moment, then fell away

more steeply and she had abrief, fantastic view of thetown of Perys, nestled uponitsprotrudingridgebelow.Astheydrewcloser,someofthesmokeintownappearedtobeaccompaniedbyflames.The horses in front leaped

anotherwall, then descendedthesteeperslopebeyond…thewall rushed up, Sashacounting Peg's strides andjudging distances by reflex,then sailing precisely over,

touching with barely animpactastheslopefellaway.They plunged at rapid speedas the whole frontaccelerated, Peg stretchingoutandthreateningtogainonthe riders ahead.Sashawovehimofftooneside,thenbackagain, and liked the way thevantage changed at thatspeed, as the wind stung ather eyes and clods of earthfrom the racing horsemen infrontspunandfelltoallsides

likerain.They raced into the

depression Kessligh hadindicatedearlier,Perysoutofview behind the interveningridge, then rounded theridge'send.Overandacrossaslantingriseintheland,then,hurdling another wall andskirting the smoulderingremains of a farmhouse, arushof ashen smell upon thewind. Suddenly to the rightthe road was visible once

more, andupon it the centralformation, which had skirtedthecliff'sotherend.She saw the other

horseman before anyone—astartled figure racing frombehind the cover of anorchard—andyelledwarning.More yellswent up from thefront as he was joined by asecond, racing downslope atfullspeed.SuddenlyKesslighwas peeling off, selecting apath to the right of the

orchard strip. A farmer's hutlay in ruins behind theorchard wall and thenKessligh'sarmwasindicatinganother line to the right, astream, Sasha saw, cuttingdownslope and through theorchard.Kessligh jumped, and then

she did, past the ashen ruinand angling right to take thestream directly…and Sashacaught a glimpse from thecorner of her eye—bodies

upon the ground, human andlivestock, slaughteredtogether. Peg leapt thestream, then skirted theorchard'srightflank,lowfruittrees whipping past her,Sasha drawing her blade forthe first time and holding itlow to the right, ready forsurprises.Theorchardpassedwithnosignoffurtherhiddenriders as they leapt the endwall and continued across anopen field, panicked sheep

scattering before them inwaves.Ahead, several guardsmen

were closing on the twoescaping riders. Peg andTerjellyn hit their full stridefor the first time, closing thegap and hurtling down theslope.Another cry rang highupon the wind ahead abovethe thunder of poundinghooves.“Murdering thieves!

Murdering thieves!” A

pursuing soldier aimed acrossbow upon hissaddlehorn.Ajolt,andoneofthethievesfaltered,clutchingawkwardlyat the reins.Thenfell, rolling and crashing atbone-breaking speeds. Thesoldier's companion wasgaining on the second man,sword raised, but at the lastmoment, the remaining thiefevaded him and theguardsman and his formationchargedon,havingnotimeto

stopanddealwithstragglers.Except that now, Kessligh

angled directly toward thethief, weapon raised withobvious intent. Sasha fellbackandmovedacross,readyto intercept any obviousescaperoute.Theriderswungfrom the saddle, clutchingstirrup and rein to use hishorse as a shield. Kesslighand Sasha flashed by him,one to either side, Sashasparing a disgusted glance

overher shoulderas themanregained the saddle andspurred his mount uphill,makingnoattempttofollow.She andKessligh leaped a

wall, skirted a rising moundof rock, then crested anotherslight rise as suddenly Perysappeared directly before andbelow. Three groups ofhorsemen now rusheddownslope upon that central,converging ridge. Thedownhill road linked with

another from the left that ranoff towardHadryn,along theshoulder of the gorge.Through that junction ran astonewallnohigher than theothers, and a simpleguardpost with a hut and asmall barn for horses.Squinting through the wind,Sasha could see figuresmanningthatpostandseveralspots along the wall, plusseveral tethered horses.Abovethethunderofhooves,

therecamethesoundofabelltolling.The Falcon Guard raced

the final length of slope,weapons brandished andbanners flying. From thetown, well behind the stonewall,thereemergedanumberof horsemen coming out togreet them. Sasha saw theguardpost archers fire, andabandonedanylasthopeofarapid surrender as a leadingguardsman'shorsewentdown

in a horrid tangle of animalandhumanlimbs.Therecamean answering roar from theFalconGuards,andthentheywere plunging over thewall,the archers ducking forshelter as the centralformation continued acrossopenground to the townandtheemergingriders.Shemissed that firstclash,

however, as Kessligh swungwide right, then back left tojump the wall at a close

angle.Sashafollowedawidthwider for cover, and sawTerjellyn fairly trample onerunner into the ground,Kessligh reversing for a neatbackhandcut tofellasecondas he ran. And then he wasriding up along the wall,flushing men from theirhiding crouches even as anumber of Sergeant Garys'sgroup came circling back.Several reloading archersleaped the wall to escape

Kessligh's blade, anotherfreed his horse and leaptastride just in time to be cutfrom the saddle atKessligh'spassing.They swerved to miss the

guardhouse and barn; theremaining, tethered horsesscampering in fear, anothermanthrowinghimselfclearintime to avoid Terjellyn'spoundinghoovesonlytofindhimself in Sasha's path—Peghad no respect for human-

sized obstructions when hisbloodwasup,andshebarelyfeltthebumpasPegsmashedhim spinning aside. Thensome of Sergeant Garys'smen were in amongst it,ridingdownfootsoldiersandsweeping both sides of thewall.Sasha lost Kessligh

momentarily in a confusionof riders, struggling forcontrol with a double-reinedgrip in her left hand—Peg

saw a gap almost before shedid andwent through itwithlittleurging,intoopengroundbefore the town. Riderswheeled ahead, more of theflanking formation dealingwith those the centralformation had bypassed.Weapons slashed and cut,outnumbereddefenderstryingdesperately to survivethrough manoeuvre anddefence…several horseswithempty saddles, a pair of

guardsmen collided, a crashof horses and a catapultingrider,Sashareiningasidethatcollision and searching invainforKessligh…Asnarlingriderinnorthern

dark greys came at her fromthe right and she dug in herheels, Peg's accelerationleaving the rider's swing farshort. She dodged again asanother two men locked injostling combat threatened tohither,thenslashedhardata

wild stroke fromher side—itjolted her arm and shespurred Peg on, emergingfrom that little knot to findopengroundtoPerysinfront,andthetailendofahorseshefancied was Terjellyndisappearingfastintoitsmainstreet. She spurred after him,flexing her aching arm andriskingaglancebehindtoseeif she were pursued. Havingclearedthewallofopponents,guardsmenwerenowheading

for the fight in strength—soon the odds for thedefenders would beoverwhelming.Peg raced across the

undulating final stretch,frothing and blowing hard,Sasha wriggling the fingerson her gloved right hand, asthe index finger had gonesuddenly numb. She hadn'tperformed that parry well atall. Kessligh was right,cavalryfightingwasnotideal

for a svaalverd fighter—balanceinthesaddlewasnotalways simple, and fared farbetter with two hands thanone. Deprived of hertechnique, the strength ofLenay fighting men becameformidable.Thatlastmanhadstruckhard.Then Peg's hooves were

pounding upon the packedearthroad,ramshacklehousesto either side, their doorssmashed in. Further ahead,

several dwellings werereduced to smoulderingashes. Beyond that,something large still burned.She raced by several bodiesin the road, recently slashedand weapons at their side,blood pooling upon the dirt.Ahead, the road opened intowhatappearedtobeacentralvillage courtyard. Within,fighting raged, horsestrampling in circles andswords clashing. There was

nosignofvillagersanywhere.She burst into the

courtyard and saw the mainsourceofsmoke—theroofofthe broad, wooden traininghall, which dominated thecentre of the square, was onfire. Guardsmen seemed tohave mostly won the fightagainst opposing cavalry asmany Hadryn bodies laysprawled about the square.Numerous guardsmen haddismountedtogivechaseinto

broken doorways, or acrossthe debris of previouslydestroyed buildings. Shenoticed guardsmen clusteredupon the front verandah ofthe training hall, hammeringat the door with their swordhilts. One gave a harshcommandtoothers,whowentracingabout to thebuilding'sother side, searching forentrances. From inside, shecould hear the shrill cries ofwomen.

Sasha spurredPeg forwardwhile sheathing her sword.She leaped from the saddle,runningacrossthestonesandontotheverandah.“Someonegiveme a lift!” sheyelled atthe men hammering at thedoor, which appeared to befirmly locked. They spun…andtohersurprise,theleaderwas Jaryd, his young facestreaked with sweat beneathhis helm. “Get me onto theroof!Icangetinfromthere!”

“The damn roof's on fire,fool!” Jaryd yelled back ashis men continuedhammering.“Iknow!Ispendalotmore

time in these buildings thanyoudo,justtrustme!”Jarydsworeandran toher

side, hands clasped togetherfor a cradle. Sasha stuck herfootinit,graspedthesupportpillar forbalanceandshovedupwards. Jaryd lifted at thesame time, with a great

heave, and she caught theverandah roof with bothhands. She got an arm over,braced an elbow andscampered with both feetupon the pillar…it propelledher over the edge and ontothe wooden shingles. Sherolled upright, immediatelyfeelingtheheatof theflamesthat roared and surged uponthe right side of the roof,threateningtocaveitin.Sasharanuptheincreasing

incline, aiming booted feetfor the nails, knowing that amisstep could break straightthrough(she'ddoneitbefore,playing games on variousroofs as a girl). Shemanoeuvred around theforward triangle panel androlled onto the upper rooftopfrom there. Moved along alittleway,thensimplystartedkickingwithaheelatalikelyspot. A wooden shinglebroke,andshekickedseveral

more, clearing a space ofexposed beams throughwhich dark smoke pouredout. One of the big Lenaysoldiersmighthavestruggledto fit through it, but Sashaquicklyknelt,gotbothfeetin,took her weight on her armsand lowered herself throughwith a hand-hold reversal,gasping a deep, final breathasshewent.Smokewithin theenclosed

ceilingspacemadebreathand

sightimpossible.Shescrewedhereyesshut,heldherbreath,andfeltaboutuponthestrawceiling matting for an edge.Pulled it up and threw itaside, drew her sword andplunged it point first throughthe light planks below.Stabbed repeatedly, then gother gloved hands into thebrokengaps in thewoodandpulled. They broke easily.Sasha threw them away,sheathed her sword as the

lack of air began to burn ather lungs, stuckherheadoutofthegapbelowandsawthebroad, open space of thetraining hall divided bymultiple tachadar circlesamidst numerous woodenceiling supports. There weremore horizontal beamsbelow, and she grasped theedges of her hole, thrust herbody out and half-somersaulted upon that grip,legs swinging and catching a

beam. She grabbed onto it,swinging upside down byhands and knees, andoverarmed to the ceilingpillar, sucking air thinly asthesmokeclusteredabouttheceiling.Shegrabbedthepillarand slid down the smoothhewn sides to the ground,gasping a deep breath as theairclearednearthebottom.A crowd of villagers were

clusteredateitherendaroundthe huge doors, which

appearedtohavebeenbarredand padlocked. “Padlockedfrom the inside, but not theoutside?” was her immediatethought.“Howdidthepersonwith the key get out?” Acrash from themiddle of thehall interrupted that thoughtasceilingbeamscollapsed ina clatter of flames, charcoaland sparks. The low ceilingofsmokewasgrowinglower,the visibility already terrible,blocking light fromthesmall

windowshighinthewalls.Ahammering sounded abovethe screams and crackling ofthe fire—someone trying tohack throughawallwithaxeor sword. Neither wouldwork,thesewallswerevertynhardwood, four times theweight of regular pine andjust as many times thestrength.“Stand aside!” she yelled

to the villagers. “Get aside,give some room!” They

turned in astonishment andpulled others aside who hadnot heard, clothing held totheirmouths, eyeswidewithpanic. Sasha redrew hersword and examined thepadlock, a big, heavy, ironcontraption, no doubtimported from the lowlandswhere such things werecommonly engineered. Shepointedtothenearestwoman.“Hold this lock! Like this.Keep this side facing up!

Don'tworry,you'llkeepyourfingers!”The woman grasped it in

fear, held as instructed, andshut her eyes. About her,Sashawas aware, therewerechildren crying. She tookstance, trying to relax hershoulders…without a cleanbreath to take, itwasn't easy.But then, forher, swingingasword was easier thanbreathing, and serrin steelwas far tougher than iron.

ThelockbrokewitharingingclashandSasha tore the lockaside, villagers crowding tolift the heavy bar across thedoor and crash it to theground. Pressure from insideand out sent it rolling asideand villagers poured out,clutching children andcoughingforair.Sasha remembered the

group at the other end andturned back to staredesperately through the

smoke…but already theywere coming, skirting theflames.“That'sallofthem?”Sasha

yelled as they came. “Noothers?”“That's all!” answered an

elderly,coughingman.“Theylocked us in here, threatenedtokillachildontheoutsideifwe did not throw the keyout…we…wedidn'tknowtheroofwasafireuntil…”“Tell me later!” She

ushered him out, onto theverandah,tofindthatmostofthe others had already beenescorted across the square tothe neighbouring inn. Shemoved down the stairs andacross the square at the oldman's side, several womenhasteningtohelp.Halfway across, and a

thunderofhoovesandmotiontook her attention left…ahorsemancametoaskitteringpause, several men on foot

behind,weapons inhandandassuredly Hadryn from theirdarkgreycloaks.Theirheadswere bare, hair closelycropped in the Verenthaneway, nearly bare at the backand sides in the northernstyle.Gleaming star symbolshung prominently about theirnecks.“It is the Cronenverdt

bitch!” yelled the horsemanto the others, their eyeswildwith the fury of recent

combat, sweaty, dirt-stainedand, inseveralcases,bloody.“WemayhavelostPerys,butthistrophyshallbeours!”“Run!”Sashayelledat the

straggling villagers, who ranfor the inn. The horsemanspurred his mount, poundingstraight for her. Sashaswitchedherswordtoherlefthand, and waited. For achargingwarhorse, it seemedto be approaching veryslowly. Everything did. The

Hadryn's face was contortedwith rage and the lust ofrevenge. And Sasha felt awave of hatred, calm andsmooth,likefireinherveins.She rolled aside at the last

moment, the rider's swordflashingemptyair,performeda simple roll to one knee, ahand to the knife at her belt,and threw. The knife struckthe passing rider in the sideand he clutched at it with acry.

The first of the footsoldiers reached her at fullpeltandunloadedwithahugeswing fit to cleave her intwo…Sasha sidesteppedwitha neatly angled, swingingdeflection, and slashed himopen from behind as heskidded by. The secondswung high, low andsideways, Sasha fadingsmoothly before each, feetand hands shifting in unison.Athirdcameatherflankwith

a ready blow, and Sashareversed the parry into aswivelling footing-changethat took half a length fromthe new attacker before herealisedhewasinrange.Herswing cleft head fromshoulders,beforereversinginturn to slash at her originalopponent, low backhand tohigh overhead…his footingentangled as his defencestruggled to make thatdifficult transition, his guard

faltering,andSashasplithimacross the middle with aviciouscut.Afourthchargedwitha roar,ahugemanwithbare biceps rippling beneathhis sleeveless tunic…Sashasaw the basic pattern of hisattackbeforeperhapsevenhedid, and simply invited theright-quarter cross that sheknew would follow thehalfstep fake and thrust.Deflected it straight past itstargetasheoverbalanced,her

bladecirclinginthatsingular,foot-sliding movement toremove arm and head inquick,precisesuccession.Silence, then. She stood

amidst the gruesome, humancarnageshehadwrought,andlooked about. She feltamazingly calm. Soundseemed to come at her asthough from underwater.Colours appeared strange,almost tactile. The blacksmoke roiling above seemed

impossibly black, andominous. The blood thatspurtedandfloodedaboutherbootswasthedeepest,reddestof reds she'd ever seen. Sheswungslowlyinherstance,asliding pivot in the centre ofthe dirt courtyard betweenneighbouring buildings andthe burning hall. Behind,guardsmen were staring ather. Blades limp at theirsides, paused as if halted inmid-rush,havingcometoher

aidbutfindingthemselvesfartoolateforassistance.Jaryd Nyvar was at their

head,staringasifhe'dseenaghost. Sasha took a long,slow breath and steppedcarefully past the ruinedcorpses, her boots alreadysplattered red with blood.Jaryd made the Verenthaneholy sign repeatedly. AVerenthane guardsman didlikewise. Another made thespirit sign, then another.

Further along, a guardsmanhadremovedtheridershehadknifedfromhismount.Hesatupon the dirt now, clutchingthe knife wound in his side,guarded at blade point. Thewound, she noted coldly,appeared several finger-breadthsawayfromhisheart.More throwing practice wasinorder,itseemed.“Your Highness…” Jaryd

said hoarsely as she passed,eyes filled with utter

disbelief. “I…please, YourHighness…”From the verandah of the

inn, a crowd of villagersstared and gasped amongstthemselves.“Synnich-ahn,” she heard

the reverent, frightenedmurmur. “Synnich-ahn.”Withwonder.She paused before the

fallen rider. He stared up ather fromwithin a grimacing,battle-stained face. Hatred

and fear battled forsupremacy inhiseyes.Sashamet his gaze directly with astareofuttercontempt.“Where are your gods

now?”shesaid.

THE COLUMN RODE FROM

PERYS in the early afternoon,short five of their number.Two were dead, and anotherthreeborewoundstooseverefor them to continue. Allremained in Perys, confidentof the goodwill and care oftheir hosts. Thirty-one to

three.Itwas,Sashareflected,an abject lesson in theimportanceofbasictactics.She was almost surprised

atherselfforfindingthetimeto think on such thingsthrough the turmoil andheartbreak of the scene atPerys. But above thesuffering, and any simplehumancompassion,therewasstrategy.Suchwas the lessonthatKessligh had driven intoher—thatthelivesofsoldiers,

and indeed the lives of anentirepeople,would in timesof war become dependentupon something so simple asa commander's decisions anddeployments. IfKesslighandCaptain Tyrun had not beenso competent many morefamiliesofTyreewouldhavebeen mourning the loss of ason, brother or father atPerys.They left their Hadryn

prisonerswithinthecareofa

Verenthane monastery alongthe valley from Perys.LeavingtheminPerys,tothetender mercies of thetownsfolk whose familiestheyhadslaughtered,wasoutofthequestion.Sasha gazed along the old

monastery walls as she rodebeside them, turning back inhersaddletocontemplatethesingle spire that thrustskywardaboveamagnificentsprawl of Lenay hillside.

With its small, archedwindows placed high in thewalls, the monastery seemedasmuch to shun its beautifulsurroundings as to revel inthem. The Goeren-yai in hersoul rebelled at the feel of it—dark, worn stone,unsmilingandwelcomeless.“How long has it been

here, do you think?” sheasked Kessligh, as they rodetwo abreast behind Damonand Captain Tyrun, the

forward guard in full armourand banners ahead of them.Notthatthebannerscouldbeseenforanydistancethroughthe thick pine forest…butthen, there was always theprospect of ambush fromTaneryns thinking them aHadryn column, or vice-versa.“Torovans have been

coming here for centuries,”Kessligh replied, eyeing themonastery's dark walls with

an unreadable eye.“Verenthaneism moved fromthe Bacosh into Torovanperhaps six hundred yearsago. There was a centurythen, before the CherrovanEmpire, when Lenayin waswide open to Torovanmissionaries. Goeren-yaididn'ttakeanymorekindlytoattempted conversions thenthan they do now…but ifthese foreigners wanted tospendtheefforthewingstone

and living alone in thewilderness,well,theyweren'tbothering anyone. I'd guessthis one is somewherebetweenfiveandsixhundredyearsold.”Sasha nodded—it had that

looktoit,ofageandconstantuse.“Damon,”shethoughttocall forward.Damonglancedover his shoulder, turning inthesaddle inorder toseeherpast the obscuring helm.“How old a building? Did

you see the foundation stoneabovethedoor?”“The year 309, it said,”

Damon answered, and Sashapursedher lips.Fivehundredandforty-eightyearsold,then—itbeingtheyear857bytheVerenthane calendar, sincethe gods had presented SaintTristan with the Scrolls ofUlessis, in the Bacoshprovince of Enora. Thenumber meant something toVerenthanes. To Goeren-yai,

it provided merely aconvenient yardstick againstwhichtomeasuretime.“The Cherrovan didn't

mindthesemonasteries?”“No,” said Kessligh.

“Cherrovan weren't botheredby much, back then. Or atleast, they didn't find a fewmonks in the wildernessthreatening.”“There'sanoldruinoffthe

road to Cryliss,” Sashacountered. “The stones are

blackened, it looks as if itmighthavebeenput to firealongtimeago.”“Yes, but that's Valhanan.

There's no monasteriesaroundValhananorTyree.Ormuch of central Lenayin, forthatmatter.”“Why?”“Becausethegood,tolerant

folk of Valhanan burnt themall down and put theinhabitants to the sword, ofcourse.” Sasha gave him a

frowning look, questioninghis sincerity. Kesslighshrugged. “Good people canhave bad histories, Sasha.And bad people can havegood moments too in theirpast. Not everything theCherrovan did in theiroccupationwasbadeither…alot of verygood, enlightenedCherrovanformedallegianceswith Lenays, and workedwith them for the commongood. The Udalyn especially

met and worked with manysuch. Imet some, in thewar—Cherrovans who hadmarried into Udalyn familiesand ended up fighting theirownpeople for the liberationofLenayin.Idon'tdoubttheirdescendants are still alive inthe Valley of the Udalyn,those that survived. Allforgottentoday,ofcourse.”“I thought an enlightened

Cherrovan was acontradictioninterms,”Sasha

remarked.“Iaskedaserrinaboutthat

once,when Iwas young andnaive.Shewaswell-versedinLenay history, her uman hadtaught her the accumulatedtales of more generations ofLenays than any Lenayhumancouldpossiblyholdinhishead. Iaskedher if, fromthe serrin point of viewspanning countless centuries,the Cherrovan were aparticularly bad or barbaric

people. She was quitesurprised at the impetuosityof thequestion, coming froma Lenay…or at least anadopted Lenay. “Youngman,”shesaid,“IbelievetheLenayexpressionisthatyourimplication is like the potcalling the pan black.” Overthe span of the last thousandyears, Sasha, the mostbarbaric, bloodthirstywarmongers in all of Rhodiawere the Lenays. That's one

reason the Torovans are sokeenonrecruitingus to fightin the Bacosh—they hopethat the simple fear of aLenay army in the lowlandswill frighten the SaalshenBacosh into concedinggroundwithout a fight. TheytelltalesofLenaywarriorsinPetrodor that would makeyour blood run cold. TheLenay ‘enlightenment’, suchas it is, is a very recentphenomenon,Iassureyou.”

“Do you think the comingof Verenthanes withGrandfather Soros madeLenayin a better place?”Sashaaskedsombrely.“A central authority in

Baen-Tar made Lenayin abetter place,” Kesslighreplied with surety. “ThisconflictbetweenTanerynandHadryn may be containedbecauseofwhatwearedoingright now—companies in theservice of your father riding

toputastoptoit.Inpreviouscenturies, that didn't happen.Lenayin is a nation now, notjustasquabblingrabble.AndVerenthaneism is the gluethat holds the provinces toyourfather'swill.”“So you think

Verenthaneism has made usbetter?”“I didn't say that. Glue is

glue. Verenthaneism servesits purpose where fractiousancient beliefs and loyalties

could not. It makes Lenayinone. But any other gluemayhaveservedaswell.”

There was nothing quite solonely, Sasha thought, assittingwatch at camp after abattle. The log beneath herwas hard, the air far colderthanasummernighthadanyright tobe, and therewasnolight but the brilliance of a

billion stars. From about thecampcamethesoundofmensnoring, or a horse snorting.Alone in the dark, awatchman'sthoughtswerehisonly company. And hismemories.A twig snapped. Sasha

stared into the darkness,hands grasping the sword byher side. A rustle of pineneedles.“M'LadySashandra?Areyouthere?”Jaryd's voice. She could

see him now, very faintly, ashadowin theblackness.Shewondered if he would goaway if she remained silent.“I'm here,” she said instead.“Sittingdown,onthelog.”The shadow approached.

She did not knowwhy she'dinvited him over—like mostVerenthane nobles, JarydNyvarwasapainintheneck.Perhaps, she thought wryly,shewasjustasmuchthefoolasthoseidiotnoblegirlswho

giggled andwhispered at thetournaments.Sittingaloneonguardwatch,evenademonofLoth might be welcomecompany if his eyes werehandsome and his shouldersmanly.The log shifted as Jaryd

settled beside her, wrappedtightly likeherbeneathcloakand blankets. “I couldn'tsleep,” he explained. Hespoke in little more than awhisper, but in the vast,

empty silence, it seemed asloudasayell.“Damnbutit'scold!”“Northerly wind and no

clouds,” Sasha replied,standard knowledge for anyLenaywholivedinthewilds.“Westerlies can be evenworse, the wind comesstraight off the mountains.Some Goeren-yai sayunseasonalweathermeansthespiritsaredisturbed.”Jaryd hissed through his

teeth, rubbing hands togetherbeneathhiscloakandblanket.“Well, the stars arebeautiful,” he admitted.“Don'ttheGoeren-yaibelievethatstarsarelucky?”Sadly, it was too dark for

Sasha to see either hishandsome eyes or manlyshoulders. This conversation,then,wouldrestentirelyuponthe strength of hispersonality. She nearlylaughed.“Aye,”sheagreed.

“Didyoumakeawish?”“No.”“Then what were you

thinkingof?”Jarydpressed.Sasha sighed. “My

mother,”shesaidquietly.“Ah,QueenShenai.”As if

he'd known her personally.JarydwasperhapsonlyayearolderthanSasha—hecouldn'thave been more than sixwhen the queen had died, inchildbirthtoSasha'syoungestsiblingMyklas. Sasha nearly

snorted. “She was verybeautiful.My father says shewasawonderfulqueen.”“I knew her only a little,”

Sashaadmitted.“I can recall the days of

mourning,” Jaryd continued,very much in love with thesound of his own whisper.“Myfamilyallworeblackforseven days. My mother alsodied young, in childbirth. Sosad a thing…and yet sonoble, to die whilst giving

life. A far more Verenthaneend,Ifear,thanmostwarriorsshall meet—dying whilsttakinglife.”“Perhaps if the priests

would allow Verenthanewomen to use the serrin'swhite powder,” Sasharemarked, “all these womenneedn'tdieyoungatall.”Though his face remained

unseen, Sasha could senseJaryd's consternation. “But itisagainstthegods’will!”

“It's against the priests’will,” Sasha retorted. “Serrinwomencanfight,playmusic,makearts,conduct trade…allthethingsthatmendo.It'sfareasier when you're notpregnantallthetime,Igather.I wonder what amazingthings Lenay women woulddiscover they could do ifgiventheopportunity.”“M'Lady…” said Jaryd,

appearing to fight down anamazed smile, “what is a

woman,ifnottheoppositetoaman?”“Shouldawoman thennot

walk?” Sasha replied. “Notbreathe? Not talk and think?Youdoallofthesethings,yetyou are a man, so surely Icannotbeawoman,becauseIdo them too. I think, MasterJaryd, that the only state inwhichawomancanmeet theVerenthane ideal and notmimic any of your manlydeedsisindeath.”

Jarydshookhishead.“Youtruly are a strange girl. Theserrin spread strange notionsfromSaalshen.”“Dotheyfrightenyou?”“Frighten? M'Lady, I

assureyou…Idonotfrighteneasily.”“Yetyoudisapproveofme.

Why? Why wish me to besomething else, unless youfeelthreatened?”Jaryd did not reply

immediately. Somewhere in

the forest, an owl hooted. “Iwas raised to be a goodVerenthane,”hesaidthen.Hesounded troubled.“Yesterday, at Perys, I sawyou do things with a bladethat…that I had not thoughtpossibleforawoman.Barelypossible for most men, infact.Iadmit,Iamconfused.Iwouldliketothinkthathaditbeen me in your place, Iwould have acquitted myselfaswell. I amoneof thebest

swordsmen in Lenayin, Iknowthiswithallmyheart…and yet the artistry withwhich thosemen diedwas…trulyamazing.”Spirits help him, Sasha

thought,hewas trying.Whathe admitted was surely noeasy thing. “The serrin knowmany ancient arts,” Sashatold him, somewhat moregently. “The svaalverd is notinvulnerable by any means,but when taught by the very

besttoacapablepupil…well,I have options in a fight thatmyopponentsdonot.”“I said your ways do not

frighten me, and I mean it,”Jaryd said determinedly. “Iam a swordsman, I can onlyadmire such talent, howeverunexpected. But I shouldwarn you, M'Lady…I knowotherswhofeeldifferently.”“I know…” Sasha began,

butJarydhadnotfinished.“Noblemen,”hesaid,“my

relationsamongstthem.TheyhavelongresentedKessligh'sinfluencewith the king.Andthey speak ill of serrin andNasi-Kethalike.”“Kesslighhas littleenough

influencewith the king thesedays,” said Sasha. “Andnoble Verenthanes havealways resented or dislikedmeforonereasonoranother.But thank you for thewarning. Is there someparticular reason I should be

worried?”Jaryd'ssilencedidnothelp

her nerves. Events were inmotion, and clearly the lordssaw an impendingwar as anopportunity for self-advancement.Waragainsttheserrin would sever all theking's remaining ties withKessligh and the Nasi-Keth.Ifitwasachancetogetridofhim, then it was surely achance to get rid of her. Sherecalled Kessligh's grim

warning at the Steltsyn Star,andsufferedashiverthathadnothing to do with the chillnightair.“A part of me looks

forward to this war,” Jarydsaid. “The holy war toreclaim the Saalshen Bacoshfrom the serrin. You wouldfeeldifferently,Isuppose?”“Saalshen took that land

because theywere attacked,”Sasha replied. “They neverstarted theconflict, theyonly

finished it. The SaalshenBacoshisformidablebecauseit is defended by armies ofhumans and serrin. Mosthumans seem happy there,and they fight ferociously todefend their lands from theso-called liberators. IfLenayin went, we'd be justanother bloody invader. Isthatwhatyouwant?”“Those lands are holy,”

Jaryd countered, though hesounded less than certain. “I

am Verenthane, and theplaces where the faith wasborn are occupied by thosewho do not belong. Anyyoung man wishing foradventurewouldwelcomethechance to ride on such acrusade. And many Goeren-yai I've spoken to said theywould welcome a great war,Lenayin has always been aland of warriors, but theLiberation brought peace.Toomuch peace formany, I

think.”“Serrin did not travel as

much to western provinceslike Isfayen,” said Sasha.“Goeren-yai to thewestmayhave no trouble fightingserrin, but the story isdifferent here.” She paused.“But you said only a part ofyou.Whatoftheotherpart?”Jaryd sighed. “I've never

been interested in the thingsthat my father and uncleslove. Wealth and power,

morelands,moretaxes.Theycomplain endlessly that thenobility has little true powerandthatthekingsavesalltheauthority for himself, andtheyexpectme tobe equallyoutraged…”He shook his head, gazing

into the dark. “And nowmyfatherisdying.Hesentmetothe Falcon Guards when hefound out. He said I mightlearn something. I have theGreat Lordship of Tyree

waiting for me and…and Ican't find it withinmyself tocare.”Sasha stared at him in

astonishment. She hadn'tsuspected that at all. “Youandyourfatheraren'tongoodterms?”sheguessed.“Never,”Jarydsaiddarkly.

“I try to feel sad for him,truly I do. But it's difficult.”From somewhere distant,therecamethemournfulhowlofawolf.Anotheranswered.

Some people disliked thesound. Sasha had alwaysloved it. Such a cold anddesolatebeauty.“Iknowthefeeling,”Sasha

saidquietly.Jaryd glanced at her. “The

king seems…distant. Thoughit issaidhebecamefarmoreso,afterPrinceKrystoffdied.He loved Prince Krystoffdearly,asdidyou.”“He lovedhis heir,”Sasha

muttered. “All kings must

love theirheir, the samewayapriestmustlovehisrobe,ora princess must love herfather. It's an obligation,nothingmore.”“He retreated into temple

afterPrinceKrystoff'sfuneraland rarely comes out to thisday,” Jaryd objected. “Thefirst place my father wouldvisit if I died would be thestable,toreclaimmyhorse.”“Myfatherdesiresthefaith

of the gods above all else,”

said Sasha. “It is said helovedmymother, but I don'tknow how anyone couldprove it. He's a humourless,uncaringstatueofaman,andfor the life of me I couldn'tdescribetoyouhissmile,forI've never seen it, beforeKrystoff died or after. HepraysforKrystoffbecausehethought thegodshadslappedhim in the face by takingKrystofffromhim.Thatupsethim; Krystoff himself he

barelyknew.”“Do you see him often?”

Jaryd asked. He sounded alittlesurprised…butonly thatshewastellinghimthisatall,shereckoned.“A perfunctory meeting

when I travel to Baen-Tar.Nothingmore.”“Fathers,” Jaryd said

distastefully.“Fathers,”Sashaagreed.They sat together in the

cold for awhile and listened

to the vast silence. Thewolveswerequietoncemore.Jarydthenseemedtosmileinthe dark. Then repressed alaugh. Sasha stared at him,wondering what couldpossiblybesofunny.“It's just…you mentioned

the serrin,” Jaryd saideventually, with restrainedmirth,“and Ialways thinkofthis when anyonementions…”“What?” Sasha said

impatiently.“My littlebrotherTarryn,”

said Jaryd. “Such a cheerfullittlefellow.Helikedtostrideabout everywhere with thisbig, wooden sword thattrippedhimwhenhemarchedor turned.One timewhenhewas around four my sistersthoughtitwouldbegrandforhim to lead a ceremonialpresentation for a visitingserrin scholar. So we're allsittingdowninthegrandhall,

withbannerson thewallandtables loadedwithfood…andin comes little Tarryn, alldressed in these…this littletailored collar and vest andgolden buttons…all bold andbeaming at everyone, just awonderful, cheerful littleboy…and he comes downthese grand steps before thecrowd, with everyoneadmiring, andhe's loving theattention so much that hecatches the heel of his shiny

newbootsonthelaststepandfalls smack right on his faceonthefloor.”Jaryd nearly doubled over

with laughter, tryingdesperately to keep fromwaking anyone. Sasha's firstthoughtwasthatitwasaverymean thing to find soamusing. Then sheremembereda timewhenherfavourite dog had gottenloose,jumpedonAlythiaandknocked her face first into a

waiting row of pastries. Andsuddenly, she was doubledoverinnearhysterics.After a while of laughing

through his nose, Jarydstraightened and tried again.“And…Tarryn started to cry,while me and my otherbrother Wyndal are fallingout of our chairs laughing,and our…our sisters areglaring at us. And Fatherjust…just sighs and puts hishead inhishand.”He tooka

deep breath and tried torecover himself. “But theserrin scholar was nice, hegot up and went to Tarryn,pickedhimup,sathimontheedge of the table andsuddenly it didn't matter anymore.Serrindon'tget ruffledvery often, do they? I stillrememberthatman,hewas…hewasnice.”Sasha rearranged her

blanketandcloak,andwipedtears from her eyes. It was

like this, sometimes, after afight. The smallest thing setoff the wildest emotionalresponses. But she greatlypreferredthistrainofthoughttothoseprevious.“Where is Tarryn now?”

sheasked.“He's at Baen-Tar,” said

Jaryd. “He's eleven now,Father sent him for a bit ofsophisticated education. Hehas some cousins there…it'sbeen nice, the past few

months, being posted toBaen-Tar with the FalconGuard.Icouldseehimnearlyeveryday.”“I put a lizard inAlythia's

bed,once,”saidSasha,awareasshesaiditthatitmightnotbepropertosharesuchthingswith Jaryd…but her mouthwasawaynow,andwhenthathappened, her mind had astruggletocatchup.Jaryd blinked at her, his

disbelief clear despite the

blackness.“You…inPrincessAlythia'sbed?”Sashanodded,bitingherlip.“Why?”“She's my sister, I don't

need a reason why,” Sasharetorted. “She was being apain. Besides, it wasKrystoff'sidea.”“Whathappened?”“We hid around a corner

near her chambers…we hadtoshooaguardaway,hejustshook his head and smiled,we were always pulling

pranks.Thenweheardaloudscream and Alythia camerunning out in her nightgown. She knew who did it,she's a pain but she's notstupid.“But she killed the lizard.

She threw it at us, all deadandlimp.Iwasupset,Iyelledat Krystoff and went off tocry in my room. KrystoffcameupandmadesillyjokesuntilIforgavehim.”“Over a lizard?” asked

Jaryd.“I'vealwayslovedanimals.

Horses, dogs, lizards, birds,bats.Someofmybestfriendshave been animals. They'realwayshonestandtheyneverbetrayyou.”“True,”Jarydagreed.“The

first thing my horse mastertoldme—it'sneverthehorse'sfault. If hemakes amistake,it's the rider's fault for notcommunicatingproperly.”“Iagree.I'veoftenthought

thatifmorerulerswentabouttheir rule as they're taught togo about their riding, mostlands would be far betterplaces.”Therewas another silence,

longer than the last. “Well,M'Lady,” Jaryd saideventually, “I must admit,you'renothinglikethepersonthat I'd thought you were. Itseems that I'vebeen told liesaboutyou.”Sasha gave a silent laugh.

“And you're not so badyourself, foraself-important,preening Verenthane noble,”shereplied.“I'll admit to preening,”

Jaryd suggested, “if you'lladmittoasharptongue.”“Admit?HowcouldIdeny

it?”Jaryd smiled. “It must be

near time for your watch toend. Say…it's a cold night.Two bodies are warmer thanone, and there's plenty of

roominmybedroll…”“Oh no,” Sasha laughed,

“you'llnot findmequite thateasy a mark, Master Jaryd.I'veadmitted that Ino longerwishtobreakyourskullwithabluntstick,butthedistancefrom there to where you'resuggesting is a long oneindeed.”“A pity,” Jaryd sighed,

utterly unperturbed. “Theshorthairisanacquiredtaste,butIthinkIwasbeginningto

acquireit…”“Truly.” She was amused,

in spite of her betterjudgment.“It does rather draw

attention toyour lovelyeyes,Ifeel.”“It's dark. I can barely see

you, how can you possiblynoticemylovelyeyes?”“How could I not? And

truly,youmustbebuiltlikearock to produce theswordwork you showed in

Perys with such speed andbalance…”Ah, so that was it. “I'm

sorry,Jaryd,”Sashatoldhim,smiling, “if you wish toindulge that particularcuriosity, I'm sure you couldaskavisitingserrinladyverynicely and she'd be happy toindulge, as serrin often will.I'msureshe'llshowyouallofher muscles in all the mostinterestingplaces.”Spirits help her, she

thought later as she laysnuggled in her own bedroll,she was almost tempted.Unlike Verenthane ladies,Goeren-yai had little worryaboutusing theserrin'swhitepowder,sopregnancywasnoissue. She always carried alittleonsuchrides,notintheexpectation of an amorousencounter, but as a finalguard against the unpleasantprospect of being takenprisoner.Shehadnoillusions

aboutthesuperiormoralityorsexual virtue of women—Verenthanes might believethat, and Goeren-yai to alesser extent, but the serrinplaced the conceptsomewhere between amusingand ridiculous, and in this,Sasha took her teachingsfirmlyfromtheNasi-Keth.Butitwasapricklishthing,

for her. Serrin might leapfrombedtobedwithcarefreeabandon, but she could not.

Shewashuman,afterall,andlust alone (for her at least)was not quite enough.Besides which, there wereenough unpleasant rumoursabout her dubious moralityalready in circulationthroughoutLenayin—shehadnowishtoaddtothelieswithfacts.Ifshewasgoingtorisksuch a thing, then the manwould have to be damnedimpressive to make it worthher while. Jaryd might well

be a decent man, and wascertainlyahandsomeone,butthat was still somewhereshortofherrequirements.

The following morning, thefarmhouses upon the trailwere all deserted, livestockletouttograzeonthethickestpasture in the hopes that thetroubles would pass themover. The trail descended

along a broken, jagged cleftin the hills, toward a lakebelow. It shone vast andsilver beneath the overcastsky, like flashes of preciousmetal through the pines.Beyond the far, northernshore rose genuinemountains, whose highestpeaks bore white caps ofsnow.Part way down the slope

toward the lake, the columnencountered the senior scout

Jurellyn, scanning the clearviewofthelakesidebelow.“Vassyl,”hesaidasSasha,

Kessligh, Damon, CaptainTyrun and Jaryd gatheredabout. Jurellyn's fingerindicated thenear sideof thelake, mostly obscured bytrees. “They're under attack,almost certainly. One of mylads isdowncloser,heheardtrumpets and massed horse.The town's not afire though,sothedefendersmayyethold

theday.”“This trail is guarded?”

Damonasked,frowningasheconsidered the scene. Sashadoubted hewas admiring thebeautyofthealpinelake,northemajesty of themountainsbeyond.“Aye,” said Jurellyn. He

waschewingonagrassstem,Sasha saw. His manner, asroughened and weathered ashis face and hair, was asinformal as she'd ever seena

common man dare withroyalty. Lenayin was full ofsuchmen—foresters,hunters,wild men, as they werecommonly known. Somewere recruited to arms, asscouts. The basic notions ofcivilisation, like manners,were often strange to them.Wise commanders toleratedthe indifference, and reapedthebenefits.“Noknowingbywho. I'd guess perhaps thelocals, knowing this terrain

better.”Heremovedthegrassstem, and spat. “I'll tell youthis—there's not much roomfor massed cavalry downthere on the lakeside. It's notawalledtown,butthey'vegotarchers.Itmightnotmatter.”Kesslighpursedhis lipsas

he considered. “You're right,oldfriend,”hesaid.“That'sanarrow lakeside bank, just afew fields and farm walls.Vassylblocksthewayaroundthe lake entirely for cavalry.

Attacking Hadryn might tryto sneak some infantryaround along the high slope,butthat'll leavethemisolatedagainst Taneryn cavalrybetweenVassyl and the passyonder.”His finger drew across to

the right,where Sasha's eyesfollowed the lake's distantshore beneath themountains.There was the back route toHalleryn.Itendedbeneaththetallest peakopposite—Mount

Halleryn.Directlybelow,shecould clearly make out thedarkclusterthatwasHalleryntown. And if she was notimaginingthings,shethoughtshe could make out a darksmudge within that open,greenvalley.Thosewouldbesoldiers.An army, encampedbeforeHalleryn'swalls.“The Hadryn have no

business even being inTaneryn,” Sasha muttered.“It'saninvasion.”

“Usyn Telgar may claimgood cause,” said Damon.Sasha stared at him. “Hisfatherwasmurdered.Hemayclaimjustice.”“This,” Sasha retorted, “is

notjustice.”“We don't know what this

is, just yet,” Damon replied,his expression dark. Therewas greater force andcertainty in his manner thanSasha had expected. “Weshall go down and find out.

We shall enforce a truce andinterrogatethecommanders.”“We are but eighty men,

Highness,” Captain Tyrunremindedhim.“Not once the other

companiesarrive.”“They may be days.”

Tyrun's manner was calm,merely reminding his princeofthefacts,notadvocatingorarguing.“Then we shan't tell them

that,” Damon said simply.

“Shallwe?”He lookedaround, seeking

disagreement, and appearedmildlysurprisedwhenhedidnotfindany.

The descent through theforested lower slopes wasguarded,forthecolumnheardmany strange calls echoingoff the hills as theydescended. But with the

banners prominentlydisplayed, there came noattack. Finally the trailemerged from the thick treesabove the town of Vassyl.Thesurroundinggrassyfieldswerethickwiththelastofthesummer flowers and thetown's shingled roofs anddecorative trimmings lookedpretty indeedbefore thevast,flatspanofthelake.Spoiling the tranquil scene

were the dark, motionless

forms lying on the fieldsclosertothetown.Hereatthetreeline, Sasha knew, theywere alreadywithin range ofhigh if inaccurate longbowfire.Guardsmen were pointing

westward along thelakeshore, just beyondarrowshot from the town. Aclusterof soldiersandhorseswas visible there, encampedwithin the narrow space ofopen land between the lake

and the steep rise of theforestedslope.Oneriderwasnow galloping forth, bearinga banner on which thereflappedawhiteflag.“I advise we come closer

beforehearrives,myPrince,”Kesslighcalled toDamon.“Ishould like a look at thetown.”Damon nodded and they

continued forward, the rearsections of the columngalloping to draw up the

flanks as they cleared thetreeline. Sasha saw an arrowprotruding from the groundnearby,half-buriedat a steepangle. Then, from the town,there came a second rider,also bearing a pole with awhite flag. He jumped thelow surrounding wall andspurredtowardthem.Sasha could see now that

the tight cluster of buildingswas no accident of planning—the narrow streets would

weave between suchbuildings, providing no easyavenues for gallopinghorsemenandplentyofcoverfor defending archers. Therewere men standing on someof the roofs, leaning onrailings thatseemeddesignedfor the purpose,while othersstood along the low stonewall that ringed the town.Lenay soldiers did nottypically favour archery, butfor the defence of Vassyl, it

seemed the logicalmethod—northern cavalry armour wasrarely more than leather-on-chain, which would bluntlongbow fire, but not stop it.And horses, of course, werenotarmouredatall.Andnow,as the column drew closer,they passed the first fallenbody—a horse, sprawledupon its side, an arrow shaftthroughitsneck.Sashanotedits side continued to rise andfall.

“Damn,” shemuttered andswunginhersaddletocalltothe nearest man behind…buthe had already spotted theanimal'splight,andswungofffrom the column whilstdrawing his sword. Sashaaverted her eyes from whatfollowed—she'd seen enoughkilling of late. Besides, therewere dead men lying upahead, and more fallenhorses. These men did notwear the dark grey of the

Hadryn militia at Perys, butrather theblackand silverofHadrynlinetroops.“The Hadryn Shields,”

Kesslighnotedastheypassedone man, sightless eyesgazing at the sky, a shafteffortlessly puncturing hismailedchest.Hissurcoatboretheemblemofasilvershieldupon black. “Excellentsoldiers. Some of Lenayin'sbest, not like those idiotmilitia. Their commanders

can sometimes let themdown,however.”The man galloping from

the town reached thecolumn's head first, and theforward guard parted to lethimthrough,handswarilyontheirweapons.Damonhaltedand Kessligh rode to his leftside, Captain Tyrun to theright, as the forward guardheld the man's back, andDamon's small Royal Guardcontingent clustered close

behind. Sasha kept herself inreserve at Kessligh's rear,withJarydforcompany.“MyPrince,”saidtherider,

with an accent that wassomewhat northern, butmostlyfamiliar.Hebowedinthe saddle, long,braidedhairfalling about his face. Whenhe straightened, Sasha sawthat his face bore tattoomarkings, and his ears shonewithmany rings. “Good thatyou have come. The Hadryn

make war on us, my Prince.This isan invasion,as surelyyou can see. We defend therearway toHalleryn andwehave not yet let them pass.But the northern clans aremorenumerous thanwe, andwe fear that a reinforcementmay see our numberoverwhelmed. You must putanendtothisaggression,myPrince.”“Whattheprincemustand

must not do,” Captain Tyrun

saidsharply,“isfortheprinceto decide.” The Goeren-yairider simply looked at him,head high and eyes proud.The men of these regionswere deferential to royalty,but only from politeness…and when they found somepersonalbenefitinit.“Lord Krayliss holds

Halleryn?” Damon asked therider.“Aye, my Prince. And

Lord Usyn Telgar puts

Halleryn to siege even now.TheyhaveheavycavalrythatTaneryn cannotmatch in theopen. We can only defendwhat is ours and hope forjusticefromBaen-Tar.”“And how did Rashyd

Telgardie?”“Some Hadryn priests

cametoGessyl,notfivefoldsover yonder,” pointing westtoward the Hadryn border.“They disrupted the people'slivelihoods, angered the

spirits and offended thehonourofthewomen.”Sashafrowned at that. MostGoeren-yai women, thoughnot fighters, could look aftertheirownhonour.“Theyweredriven from Gessyl, butinvented stories of theirmistreatment and of paganinsults to the Verenthanegods. Both LordRashyd andLord Krayliss heard this androde toGessyl. LordRashydwas upon Taneryn land, my

Prince. He invaded ourterritory, he insulted thepeople and caused mortaloffence to Lord Krayliss. Agreat lord need not suffersuch insults upon his ownland. The fight was forhonourandmyLordKraylissprovedthemosthonourable.”A new thunder of hooves

approached and the Hadrynrider was admitted into thecircle before Damon,KesslighandTyrun.

“My Prince,” said theHadrynman,all inblackandsilver, with the leather andchain of the vaunted HadrynShieldscavalry.Hebowedinthe saddle. “Well that youhave come. Have you moreforcesontheway?”“Many,” Damon said

flatly. “They arrive shortly.Explain your presence onTanerynland.”“Thematter is simple, my

Prince,” said the Hadryn

cavalryman. “MyGreatLordRashydTelgarwasmurderedat the hand of Lord Kraylissof Taneryn. By your father'slaw, my Prince, the nowGreatLordUsynTelgar, sonofRashyd,mayseekrevenge.Lord Krayliss has refused toyield to the demands ofmanlyhonour.Thus,weseekitfromhimbyothermeans.”As Sasha understood it,

Usyn Telgar could seekrevenge as a son, and as a

man. But to do so in thecapacity of provincial greatlord, by risking all-out war,undermined the authority ofthekinginBaen-Tar.Here,atthis moment, Damonrepresented the king'sauthority, but was hepreparedtouseit.“How dare you murdering

thieves speak of honour…”theTanerynmangrowled,butDamon held a clenched,glovedfistintheair.

“Insultsandposturingshalldo nothing to sway myfavour,” he said with a darkglare at the Goeren-yai. “Iassureyou.”“My Prince,” said the

Hadryn Shield, “theseanimalsdonotevenallowusa pause within which toreclaim our dead andwounded. We fear some ofourwoundedmay even havebeenmurderedastheylay…”“We did no such thing!”

the Taneryn shot back, eyeshardwithfury.“Wegatheredthewounded and are tendingto them with the best of ourcare, as the customs dictate.Shouldtheinvadersdecidetowithdraw their presence, weshallreturnthosementotheircomrades.”“Themen of Hadryn shall

toleratenohostagethreats!”“Enough!” Damon barked.

The two men subsided to asimmering, furious silence.

The Hadryn was wellarmoured, armed andelegantlypresentedastridehishugelowlandscharger;whilsttheTanerynwasaroughened,rural image in long braids,tattered skins and leathersastride his wiry, half-breeddussieh pony. It turnedSasha's blood cold to seethem as such, these twohalves of Lenayin,Verenthane and Goeren-yai,with such murderous hatred

betweenthem.Praythatitdidnot spread. Pray to the godsor spirits; whoever wouldlisten.“My Prince,” said the

Hadryn, after a lingering,boiling silence. “At least, ifwearenotgranteda truce, ifyour ownmen could retrieveour fallen comrades? Itshould not befit anyone'shonour to leave them lyinghere.”“The soldiers of Baen-

Tar,”Damonsaidcoldly,“arenot here to sweep up afteryour conflicts.” The Hadrynman paled in silent anger.“Soldier,” Damon continued,turning his gaze upon theTaneryn, “upon my request,willyougrantatruceforthispurpose?”TheTanerynthoughtabout

itforamoment.Therewasacommand in Damon's tonethat Sasha had never heardbefore. A newfound

confidence?No. More likely simple

fury, Sasha thought. ItseemedtoaffecttheTaneryn,forhenodded.“Nomorethanfive horses may come,” hesaid.“Upon your honour,”

Damoninsisted.“Uponmyhonour,weshall

notfire.”“Go,” said Damon, “carry

themessage.WeshallridetoHalleryn.”

“MyPrince,”protested theTaneryn, “if you would ridethebackroutealongoursideof the lake,wecanofferyouasafejourneytoHalleryn…”“I shall talk with the new

Great Lord of Hadryn first,”Damonsaidfirmly.“Heistheone claiming grievance, afterall. Have no fear, I shallinterviewLordKraylissinhisturn. You are bothdismissed.”Thetwomenbowedlowin

theirsaddles,thenreinedtheirmounts about and set offgalloping toward theirrespective camps. Theforward guard reformedahead and Damon pressedafter them. Kessligh held toDamon'ssideandSasha tookthe opportunity to moveabreast herself and listen totheir conversation, above theclustered noise of hooves,jangling harnesses andequipment.

“Welldone,”Kesslighsaidsimply,andSashacouldhearreal approval in his voice.FromKessligh,thatwasrare.Damonseemedtoridealittletaller in the saddle, but hisexpressionremaineddark.“I hate these fools,” he

mutteredinreply.“GodshowI hate them, Verenthane andGoeren-yaialike.Soreadytosplit each other's skulls withtheir petty squabbling. I'vehalfamindtoletthematit.”

“In such conflicts,”Kessligh said calmly, “it'salways the villagers thatsuffermost.”Damon let out a sharp

breath. “I know. I'm just…angry.”Heshookhishead,asif to clear it, and gazed outuponthelake.Themountainsonthefarsidemadeaperfectreflectionon thewaterand itseemed to calm his nerves.“So we shall have at it withyoung Usyn. I hear he's as

much a pain as his father.Sofysaysshe'dheardheoncechallenged a courtier to anhonour duel for making funofanewshirthe'dworn.Thecourtierwasfoundhanginginhis bedchambers thefollowing morning, toofrightened to partake.Apparently hisswordsmanship was nothingclosetoUsyn's,andeveryoneknewit.”“It'swellknowntheydon't

fight fair in Hadryn,” Sasharemarkedsourly.“Oh aye,” remarked

Captain Tyrun from the farsideoftheirfour-abreastline,“he's a wonderful youngfellow,Usyn.Brash,vainandimmature. To be expected, ifyouknewhisfather.”“But not stupid,” Kessligh

saidcalmly,“neverthinkthat.His father was smart as allhells.”“What do you suggest,

Yuan Kessligh?” Damonasked.“I have no suggestions,”

Kessligh saidmildly. “Ihaveevery confidence in you,myPrince.”And Damon, Sasha

noticed, seemed mostunhappy with that vote ofconfidence.Theyrodepast theHadryn

lines as preparations werebeingmadetosendfiveridersback to Vassyl for bodies.

There were some light tentserectedandsomeheavyskinsunfurled on the ground formentosleepunder.Perhapsahundredmen,Sashareckoned—not enough against theseveral score archers Vassyllooked to have. ProbablyUsyn Telgar was keepingmost of his cavalry at thewalls ofHalleryn, to preventany breakout, and lackedenoughstrengthasyettosendmore about the lake. Equally

probable that some hot-headed Hadryn Shieldscommanderonthissideofthelake had become impatientwith waiting, and attemptedto take Vassyl with single-handed glory…andpredictable consequences.With Vassyl fallen, the rearroute intoHallerynwould becut, and any potentialTaneryn reinforcement withit. Also, Sasha guessed, itwould open a second front

againstHalleryn'swalls.Many of the Hadryn men

hadpausedintheirroutineoftending horses, food andweapons to gaze sullenly atthe passing Tyree column.There was little affection intheir manner and, above thepounding of hooves, Sashafancied she heard severalcries in a northerntongue…“Gohome!”seemedthegistofit.ShewonderedifthemenofTyreecouldnotbe

equallyjustifiedinyellingthesamethingback.Therideaboutthelakewas

not so long, for the trailacross the mountains’ feetwas well maintained, withlittle stone andwood bridgesto cross the streams thatdescended from the peaks;sheer rock faces thrustingclear of the tree-coveredlowerslopes.Eventually, the column

passed the last of the

mountains and rode from thepatchy tree cover into theopen,grassybasinofavalley.Directly opposite, upon thelakeshore, loomed MountHalleryn,withHalleryn townnestled on its lower slope,onewall facing directly ontothe water. Encamped aboutthefeetoftheHallerynwalls,visible only in patches pastintervening clumps of pineandvalleyfloorboulders,wasan army. Damon urged the

column into a final gallop,and they thundered information across wavinggrasslands and flowers untiltheycouldseealineoftents,carts and emerging soldiersahead. Tent formations werewidely spread, suggestingthat theHadrynwere presentin less strength than theywould have liked. Mentended horses, or performedvariousdutiesaboutcamp,orsword drills and other

exercise on the grass. Sashaguessed that they onlyappeared spread out becausethevalleywassowide.Therewere several thousand menhere,atleast.A small group of riders

headedout togreet themanddirected them to thelakeshore, where thecommand was given todismount. A soldier cameforward to collect the horsesandaHadrynShieldscaptain,

in sweeping black and silvercloak and red helmet plume,beckoned them toward theseveral large tents that hadbeen pitched directly uponthe last of the valley's grass,before the broken stones ofthelakeshore.“Is it wise for her to

come?” Damon askedKessligh, with a dubiousglance at Sasha. Sasha heldhertongue.“TheauthorityofBaen-Tar

isabsolute,”Kesslighreplied.“Make no concessions. If Icome, she comes. Do youwishmepresent?”Damonnodded, brusquely.

“Let's go.” He removed hishelmastheywalked,runninga gloved hand over flattenedhair.CaptainTyrunandJarydremained behind, organisinghorse care and feed. Sashastretched as she walked,saddlesoreandweary.Rather than entering either

of the large, lakeside tents,the Shields captain led themacross the grass beyond. Onthe right, men were washingclothes and gathering waterfrom the lake. One soldierpassed, laden with tenbulging skins, and grantingevenDamon nomore than acuriousglance.Several men, Sasha saw,

were squatted naked in thechill waters, scrubbingthemselves.Damonshothera

concerned glance. Sashasnorted.Asifshehadn'tseenthatbefore.Ahead, then, Sasha could

seealonefigureontheopen,grassy plain. A light breezecaughtathisblackandsilvercloak, revealing a firm,resolute stance as hecontemplated the walls ofHalleryn before him. Theywere of old, dark stone,perhaps as tall as five men,with battlements on top. It

wasnotanenormousfortress,but Mount Halleryn blockedassaultfromonesideandthelakefromanother.Atributarystream fromMount Hallerynhad been diverted to runbefore the walls, spanned byabridgewhereit ranintothelake. Over the bridge a trailclimbed to thewall'sgate—abigmetalgrille,astallastwomen.Nomorethanathirdofthe town's wall was suitablefor assault and the rear,

lakeside trail would requireanimpossibleattackinsinglefile.The man did not turn

around as Damon, Kesslighand Sasha approached. TheHadrynShieldscaptainhaltedathissideandsaluted.“My Lord,” he said,

“Prince Damon, KesslighCronenverdt and SashandraLenayin.” No “Princess” or“Highness” from this man.Not even, she suspected, a

“M'Lady.”UsynTelgardidnotturnto

greet them. His handsappeared to be folded uponsomething before his waist.His sword, Sasha guessed,considering that his scabbardwas empty. And her heartbeatalittlefaster,recognisingthe significance of thatgesture. “So Prince Damon,”Usyn said then. A youngman's voice, cold and bleak.“I heard that you were

coming.Witheightymen.”“Shortly, more than a

thousand,” Damon saidcurtly.Usyn nodded slowly to

himself, considering. Still hedid not turn around. “And agirl,” he added, with dryirony.His tone did notworkSasha's temper as anotherman's might. That was hottemper. This anger she feltwascold,darkandmenacing.She could enjoy hot anger—

the exhilarating burst oftemper and retaliation. Ofcoldanger,therewasnothingpleasanttobesaid.“YouhaveorderedHadryn

forces onto Taneryn lands,”Damon said, ignoring theremark. “State your businesshere.”Usynfinally turned. Itwas

a pale, youthful face, framedwith the close-trimmed, darkhair of a devout northernVerenthane.Aneight-pointed

star layprominentlyuponhisleathervest,andhisbeltheldgold-handled knives and alarge, engraved horn. Theywere the clothes of a soldierinthefield,yettoSasha'seyethey seemed too wellpolished to be the kit of anhonestsoldier.“Youwouldcommandme,

my Prince?” Usyn saidcoldly. “When Baen-Tar hasignored this Taneryn rabblefor so long? Has let them

breed upon our borders likerats?Many timeswewarnedof this development andBaen-Tar, in all its wisdom,chose not to act. And nowyou would seek to imposecommand? Your timing islacking,sir.”“Baen-Tar has always

commanded here,” Damonreplied. “Baen-Tar alwaysshall. State your businessupon Taneryn lands. I won'taskagain.”

Usyn glared, his nostrilsflaring. He hooked boththumbs into his belt, hissword quivering behind him,impaled in the soft, grassyearth. No doubt Usyn hadthrust his blade into the turfupon first arrivalat thewallsof Halleryn. It was an oldLenaycustomforamanwitha grievance to do so beforethe home of another, theblade remaining until thematterwassettled.Somesuch

oftheoldwayssurvivedevenin the north, even as thenortherners denied anyconnection to Goeren-yai. Itwas “Lenay tradition,” theyclaimed. Sasha remainedunimpressed; the Goeren-yaiwereLenaytradition.“The townsfolk of Gessyl

mistreated some travellingbrothers,” said Usyn. “Myfatherrodetotheirrescue,asthetownsfolkknewhewould.Itwasatrap,myPrince.Lord

Kraylissluredhimthere,withthe express intent to commitmurder.“There was talk of

insurrection in Gessyl.Townsfolk were agitatedabout the coming Rathynal,there were claims that theywouldbemade to fight for alowlands, Verenthane cause.They spoke ill words of theking,my Prince. They spokeof a Verenthane plot againsttheGoeren-yai.LordKrayliss

led them in this treason.Rocks were thrown. Myfather charged the crowd toscatter them, but made noattempt to swing on them,merely to prevent them fromthrowing, as is his right andprivilege.LordKrayliss, alsomounted, charged my fatherfromhisblindsideandkilledhim with a stroke. I wasthere. I saw it happen. Anymanwhoclaimsitdifferentisaliar.”

“What of Gessyl now?”Damon asked, his expressiondark.“Mymenhaveoccupied it

and rounded up the mostprominenttroublemakers…”“Youshallsendamessage

immediately for them todesist,” Damon said sharply.“YourgrievanceiswithLordKrayliss. You have no causeagainst the village folk ofTaneryn.”TheyoungTelgarappeared

to bite back somethingunpleasant. “My Prince,” hesaid then, with heavy irony,“if family Lenayin will notenforceitswillagainstactsofsubversion aimed at Baen-Tar, thenperhapsyoushouldallowusto—”“IpassedthroughPeryson

thewayhere,”Damoncutin,with every sign of losing histemper completely. “I sawtwo score andmore innocentvillagers slaughtered by

raidingHadrynmen…”“With respect, my Prince,

my people have beenreceivingtroublefromraidingTanerynvillagersformonths.Ifyouhaveonlyjustarrived,how can you possibly knowwhoisguiltyandwho…”“Enough,Isay!”Sashahad

never seen Damon so angry.“You shall not attempt tojustifywhat I saw there!Didyousendthem?”Forthefirsttime, Usyn's confidence

appeared to slip, just a little.“Answerthequestion!”“I did not!” A sullen look

creptover the lordling's face.Suddenly,helookednomorethan a pouting,temperamental seventeen.“ThevillagersofHadryncanorganisetheirowndefence!Ifyouhaveaproblemwiththat,dealwithityourself!”“Wedealtwithit,”Damon

said darkly. “We dealt themthirty dead and more. More

shall follow, Hadryn orTaneryn,foranywhocommitwantonmurderinthenameofancientfeuds!”“My father was murdered

by this heathen animal!”Usyn yelled, eyes wide withindignant fury. “The father-in-lawofPrinceKoenyg,whois also my brother! If theauthority of Baen-Tar doesnotdefendmyrighttojustice,then what in all the hells’goodisitfor!”

There was a silence, then,upon the grassy plain by thewide, cold lakeside. Sashafelt rather than heard thegathering presence behind,the creak of a leather belt, afaint rustle of clothing, thecompressionofgrassbeneathheavyboots.Damonstaredatthe younger man, angerduelling with a rare distastethat seemed to sit like acidupon his tongue. Theyounger, paler man glared

back,breathcominghard,hismanner that of oneaccustomed to sudden fits oftemper.“FamilyLenayinwouldbe

nothing without the north!”Usynhissed.“Thekingoweshis throne to our unwaveringsupport! Your father knowsthis,Princeling!Wellthatyoushould learn it too!Well thatyoushouldknowwithwhomyour true loyalties lie!” Thislast with a harsh glare at

Kessligh, acknowledging hispresence for the first time.Theeyes remaineduponhimfor one hard-breathingmoment, wild and whiteabout the rims. Then toSasha, also for the first time,with an even greater hatredthanbefore.“Iservetheking,”Kessligh

saidsimply.“Youserveonlyyourself!”

Usyn spat. “Yourself, yourwhoreandyourgodlessserrin

friends!YourpowerinBaen-Tar grows weak, old man!Thekingno longer listens toyouandyourkind!YoumayhavethoseidiotsinValhananfooled, but you've neverfooledthemenofthenorth—weknowwhatyouare!”“Sure you do,” Kessligh

said with an utterlyunpleasant smile. “I'm thereason you're not speakingCherrovan.”Usyn's hand went to his

belt knife, and Kessligh's tohis own in a blur ofmotion.And Usyn's eyes went widerstill, face draining of anyremaining blood, as ifrealising, with sudden terror,what his temper had nearlybroughthimto.Kessligh's smile grew

wider.Sashahadseenhimhitcrawling insects on a treetrunkfromtenpaceswiththatknife.She decided itwas a good

timetoswingonherheelandcheck the scenebehind.Sureenough,therewereupwardofthirty Hadryn men standingthere, and more gatheringbehind. Some in a state ofpartial dress, others fullyarmed and armoured. Strongmen and tall, as with thesoldiers of all standingcompanies; their pale skinuntouched by any ink quill,their hair trimmed short,sometimes even shaved.

Their eyes were hard andtheir manner unwelcoming.Behind them, she glimpsedmembers of Damon's RoyalGuardcontingenthoveringbythe lakeside tents withevidentalarm.“Forget the knife,”

Kessligh told Usyn then.With all the ease andassurance that one mightexpect from the greatestsoldier in Lenayin. “If whatyousayofyourfather'sdeath

istrue,yourcaseseemsgood.Baen-Tar's justice serveshere.Whateverdisagreementsexist,youshallfindjusticeinPrince Damon, where it iswarranted. Only rememberthis,younglord.Donottryusand do not test our patience.All the north should knowverywellwhat I am capableof.”And he bowed, all good

form and politeness. Sashaswung back long enough to

do likewise. Damon did notbow. He would nod,affirmingly, if Usyn bowedfirst.ButUsynsimplystared,wild-eyedandhateful.AndsoDamonswungonhisheelandwalked, Kessligh and Sashaathissides.The Hadryn men stood

back just enough to let themthrough, but not enough forcomfort or respect. Sashawalked with her right thumbhooked into her belt beside

the knife there, ready for thefast thrustofaclosequartersattack. A man bumped herarm, not moving aside quitein time. She could feel theeyes upon her, roaming overher body. But the RoyalGuardwere close ahead nowas they emerged from thecrowd.“That little fool's a real

worry,”Kesslighmutteredassoon as they were out ofearshot. “His loss has made

himunstable.”“I think he was expecting

Koenyg,”Damonsaiddarkly.“Given that it's Koenyg'sfather-in-law who's beenkilled. IwarnedKoenyg thatUsynwouldtakeitamiss,buthe insisted he was too busywith Rathynal approaching.Wynawasdistraught.”“Poor girl,” Sasha said

sarcastically. “MeetingUsyn,I suddenly see the familyresemblance. The whole

Telgar family's unstable. I'mso thrilled to be related Icouldvomit.”“And I'm sure your

graceful presence shall dowondersforUsyn'sstability,”Kesslighremarked.“You didn't help,” Sasha

retorted, determined to getsome payback for all thetimes he'd accused her ofprovocation.“I thought it best to scare

himalittle,”Kesslighreplied,

the familiar, hard edge tohistone. “He's a bundle of rawimpulses right now, most ofthem aggressive. I appealedto the only raw impulse thatmightgivehimpause.”“What if he thinks you're

bluffing?” Damon asked,casting a wary glance acrossastheywalked.“I don't bluff,” Kessligh

saidgrimly.Damon glanced at Sasha.

Sasha shrugged. “He doesn't

bluff,” she admitted. “Feintsand misleads from time totime,butneverbluffs.”“There's eighty of us

threateningtotakeonseveralthousand of them,” Damonretorted.“Whatisthatifnotabluff?”“Suicide?” Sasha

suggested,raisinganeyebrowatKessligh.Kessligh shook his head.

“It'sastart,”hesaid.

EVENING,ANDTHESETTINGOF

THESUNbehindthemountainstransformed the overcast skyto a deep, ominous red. Thelake seemed ablaze as theywalkedalongitsbank,headedfor the walled town ofHalleryn. The mountainsbehind cast all the land and

lake into shadow, the sunlong since set behind itsruggedpeak.The colourwasmesmerising, and remindedSasha of tales told in theSteltsyn Star, of dark spiritswitheyesthecolouroffire…and she made the spirit signtoherforehead;anunthought,reflexgesture.“Stop that,” Kessligh said

with irritation at her side.Ofall the dinner party, he alonehad eyes more for the town

walls ahead than for the ill-omened sky. “I told you, thecolour is caused when thelowering sun strikes theunderside of the cloudsinstead of the top. And itlookssobrightbecausewe'reinthemountain'sshadow,andit'sreflectingoffthelake.It'svery beautiful, but I tell youthere's nothing otherworldlyaboutit.”“This is a demon sky,”

Jaryd disagreed, staring

upwardashewalked.“FatherUrys in Algery used to tellme about this when I was alad—sometimes at evenings,when the sun god slips intohisnetherworld,thereopensaspace between Loth and ourworld.ThisisallthepowerofLoth spilling free, anddemons with it…there's badthings afoot this night, I canfeelit.”“Aye,” Kessligh said

sourly, “and if you lot don't

cut the superstitious rubbish,I'llbeoneofthem.”They crossed the bridge

above the small stream, thetorches held by the RoyalGuardsmen to the front andrear gusting trails of flame.Ahead, thewalls ofHallerynwerealivewithtorchlightandwhipping, wind-blownbanners. Their party's ownbanners,heldaloftbythetwoguardsmen not wieldingtorches,flutteredandsnapped

abovetheirheads.Inthelightfrom the battlements, Sashacould see the dark shapes ofarchers watching theirapproach.On the far side of the

bridge, she risked a glanceback across the river. TheHadryn camp stretched wideamongthescatteredtreesandfarmhousesof thevalley, theblazeofmanyfiresaflickerinthe cold wind. Another fivehundredmenhadarrivedthat

afternoon, mostly militiafrom Hadryn villages,withouttheheavyarmourandequipment of the HadrynShields, but formidablesoldiers all the same. Wordwas that there were anotherthousand infantry afoot, butdelayedwithout the speed ofcavalry. Sasha eyed themovement atop the torch-litwalls ahead. She greatlydoubted the forces withinwould match what was

buildingoutside.“Usyn will have enough

forces before the walls tocontain any breakout bytomorrow,” she said toKessligh, folding her armstightly within her cloak toguard against the freezingwind.“He'llthendivertforcesabout the lake, and Vassylwill fall. Halleryn's forceswill be trapped, and then arealsiege.”“We can't let it come to

that,” Kessligh replied, eyesalsoscanningthebattlements.His mood was the darkestSasha had seen on this trip.“A siege will drag intoRathynal. Such is preciselywhat your fatherwouldwishavoided.”Some horsemen were

approaching along thelakesideroadahead,thebackwayfromVassyl,movingforthe gates. The tall, metalgrille stood open, but was

doubtless manned to slamshut at amoment's notice. Inthe gathering gloom, thehorsemen looked to beTaneryn militia, long braidsblowing in the wind. Behindthem came several horse-drawn carts, ladenwithwhatSashaguessedwouldbefreshfood. So long as Hallerynheldthebackroadaroundthelake, food supplies wouldstay fresh. So long as theykept theHadrynon theother

sideofthestream,freshwatercould be collected from thelake. But if Usyn decided topressforwardinforce,neithercouldbeguaranteed.“What'swrong?”sheasked

Kessligh then, into thatsolemn, wind-swept silence.Thebloodredskywasfadingnow,deepening to thecolourofcoals inadying fire,oncethe most brilliant heat hadpaled.“I remember this place,”

Kesslighsaidheavily.“Thirtyyears ago.Thewalls had notheld theCherrovan then.Wetook it back after they'd heldthe place for a week. Insidethewallswefound…”andhegrimaced, unwilling tocomplete the sentence. Hegazed away across therumpled,darkeningsurfaceofthe lake. Sasha stared at himforamoment.Kesslighrarelydisplayed such emotionrecounting his time in the

GreatWar.Thespiritsofthisplace must surely have beenunsettled, for all the bloodthathadbeenspilthere.She made the spirit sign

again, unable to stop herself.This time, Kessligh did notappeartonotice.Halleryn's gate loomed

ahead, alive with burningtorcheswithinthearchway.“Whoapproaches?”camea

cryfromthebattlements,andtheyhaltedontheroad.

“Prince Damon Lenayin!”a Royal Guardsman yelledup, with extra volume to beheardabovetheloudflappingof green and black Tanerynbanners overhead. “YuanKessligh Cronenverdt!M'Lady Sashandra Lenayin!Master Jaryd Nyvar ofTyree!”Along the walls to either

side, many faces peereddown,someleaningoutforabetterview.Itwasoneofthe

more dramaticannouncements any arrivalcould have declared. Aformality,ofcourse,asthey'dbeeninvited.“The Great Lord Krayliss

of Taneryn grants youwelcome!” came the calldown from the battlements.“Passwithinandbeatpeace,for you are within theprotection and hospitality oftheGreatLordofTaneryn!”They passed beneath the

portcullis into Halleryn townitself. The main street aheadwas lined with buildings ofstonebasewithwoodenwallsand rooftops, as was thefashion of northern towns.AsoldierofobviousGoeren-yaiappearance arrived beforethem and beckoned them tofollow. The road wascobbled, rare for a Lenaytown, but then, stoneworkwas the tradition in theseparts.And therewere drains,

Sasha saw as they walked,leadingtowhatshepresumedwere underground outflows.God forbid they led into thepristine lake. She couldn'timagine any Goeren-yaitownshipallowingthat.Morelikelyariverinflowwasheditsomeplace outside the wallstobeburiedorcompostedforfarm use…another serrininnovation that the Goeren-yai had adopted manycenturiesago.

The streets of Hallerynweremostly empty and unlitby any street lamp or torch.Sasha could not help butthink the town dank andgloomy, with nary a tree tobreak themonotony of stoneandcobbles.Thecentralroadslopedupwarduntilitopenedon a broad, paved courtyardbusy with soldiers. Newarrivals were dismountingandleadingtheirhorsestothestables on the right. Men

gathered in the courtyardabout makeshift ovens andthe smell of cooking waftedintheair.Attention turned as the

royal party crossed thecourtyard, somemen comingto their feet, more fromcuriosity than respect. Heretoo,therewaslittlewarmthtogreet aprince and, in severalquarters, even some coarselaughter at awhispered joke.Then, halfway across, there

came a new murmursweeping through thosewatching…“Cronenverdt!Cronenverdt!”…andsuddenlyall men were standing andpressing forward to watch,openmouthed andincredulous.Overlooking the courtyard

wasatallkeepofstonewallsand overlooking arches. Thekeep's grand wooden doorswerethrustasidebyapairofguards as the royal party

approached, and theyentereda stone hallway lined withold,fadedtapestriesandalivewith the dancing flame ofensconced torches. Theirguide led them up a broadstone staircase to the left,where they found themselvesemerging from the floor of agreatclansman'shall.All was stone, but for the

tall windows in the walls.Central pillars made rows toeither side of the very long,

centraltable,laidforserving.Light came from flamingtorches mounted to theceiling pillars, and a grand,carved chair dominated thetable's far end. About thepillars, standing with swordsat the hip and mugs in theirhands, were numerousGoeren-yai warriors ofTaneryn—long-haired,tattooed,beringedandproud.All paused in conversationnowandturnedtolookasthe

Royal Guard extinguishedtheir torches and parted topresenttheirfourcharges.Damon walked forward,

surveying the array of hardfaces that confronted him.Sasha remained at Kessligh'sside…and realised thatDamon, to the best of herknowledge, had never metLord Krayliss and did notknow what he looked like.Shescannedthefacesherself,searching.

“Thisisameetingofwar!”announced oneman, tall andbroadwithlonghairflowing,a strong moustache trimmedin two linesoneither sideofhis mouth. His hard eyeswere fixed upon Sasha withevident anger. “There hasnever been a woman presentat a Goeren-yai council ofwar, and there never shallbe!”Sasha glared in return.

Kesslighhookedathumbinto

his belt and repressed agrimace that was somewherebetween a wince and asarcastic smile. “Looks likedinnertome,”heremarked.“Yuan Kessligh,” growled

theman.“Youwalk into thishall with more honour, andsoaked in the blood of moreenemies, thanmightanymanin Lenayin. Do not tarnishthathonour, sir,bybetrayingthehonourofTanerynanditschosenmen.”

Kessligh strolled forwardto Damon's side, and then astep beyond, gazing about atthe gathering as he mighttypically consider a strangeclutch of chickens—withthoughtful, off-handedcuriosity. To Sasha, hismanner and poise seemednothingbut familiar.Andyetthe armed and braidedstrongmen of Tanerynseemed to flinchbackward—not in steps taken, but in

posture, a slight lowering ofthe eyes here, a defensivefolding of the arms there.Kessligh stood no taller thanmost, and somewhat slimmerthan some, his unkempt hairstreakedwithgrey,hispersonlacking any martialadornment save the blade athis back. And yet somehow,beforewarriors,noblesandaprince, he dominated theroom.“Yourname,sir?”Kessligh

asked the angered man, ascalmlyasever.“Yuan Cassyl Rathan of

Dessyd village,” the manreplied, with a proud lift ofhischin.“A first thing, Yuan

Cassyl.” Meeting the man'sgaze with a firm stare. “Myhonour ismine.Notyours. Itismine todowithas Iwish.Your preferences meannothingtome.Likewiseyourhonour is yours. My actions

havenobearinguponit.Onlyyou can gain honour, YuanCassyl. Or lose it, by yourdeeds.”Therewasabriefpause,to

allow for a collective rumbleof approval to follow, withsomenoddingofheads.Foragreatwarriortotalkofsuchathingashonour,beforesuchagathering,atsuchatime,wasa serious matter indeed. Atsuch times, men of greatimportlistenedhard.

“A second thing—youclaim that your honourdepends upon adherence tocertain ancient traditions. Idon'tcare.”Anutterhushhadfilledthehall,brokenonlybythe faint, rippling sound offlaming torches above. “Icannot afford to care. I amNasi-Keth.Yourwaysarenotmy ways. I respect themnonetheless.Thirtyyearsago,themenofthisplacesworeasimilar, undying respect to

me and my ways, howeverstrange they found them.Myways include an uma—astudent, if you will—whoremains by my side to learnas best I can teach. I wouldnever require you to changeyour ways, Yuan Cassyl ofDessyd village, were you toenter my house and myhospitality. It would bedishonourableofme.Andyetnow, you ask me to be likeyou—Goeren-yai,whichIam

not.”“A rider came today from

Perys,” came a new voice,deep and powerful. “Hewitnessed the great deedsthere of our guests and thewarriorsofTyree,againstthebloody-handed Hadryn. Healso claimed that the uma ofYuan Kessligh was therepossessed by the Synnich,and in sucha state slewnineHadryn warriors by her ownhandandtastedtheirblood.”

Therewasaflurryofspiritsigns across the hall and amurmuringofoaths.Thenthespeakeremergedfrombehindastonepillar.Heboreathick,wildmaneofdarkhairandavast, bushy black beard.Grim, dark eyes peered froma profusion of strong yetintricate tattoos that maskedthe left side of his face. Along,singletri-braidfellclearfrom the rest, to lieupon theright of his jaw. He walked

slowly forward in heavyboots and a leather vestbeneath a cloakofgreenandblack Taneryn colours. LordKrayliss ofTaneryn, the soleGoeren-yai great lord ofLenayin.“The spirit men all agree

there have been omens,”Krayliss continued, his eyesstill fixed on Kessligh. Thesword that swung from hiship was a monster, althoughto judge from the breadth of

the man's shoulders, Sashareckoned it might be aboutthecorrectsizeforhim.“Thesky tonight was red,foretelling of much blood tobeshed…orofthecomingofagreatpower.Perhapsthatisyou,YuanKessligh?Oryouruma?”“I am not a man to judge

such things, Lord Krayliss,”Kessligh replied, shrewdly.“If you wish a recounting,best that you ask her

yourself.”Krayliss stopped at the

forefront of his gathering,assortedvillageheadmenandrespected warriors fromacrossTaneryn. Followers ofKrayliss, at least.Not all themen of Taneryn could bedescribed as such.But some,facing Hadryn aggression,might rally to his sidenonetheless.“YuanCassylmakesa fair

observation,” he rumbled,

meatythumbstuckedintohisbroad leather belt. “Womenare not welcome at Goeren-yai councils ofwar. It is notourway.”“If my ways are not

welcome here,” saidKessligh, “then I shall leave.Doyourevokeyourpreviousinvitation?” Their stareslocked.Acontestofwills,thestubborn versus thedisciplined. The bluntinstrument versus the sharp.

A lord never revoked aninvitation. Kessligh haddrawn the line, somewhatcloser toLordKrayliss's toesthanmostmenwoulddare.“Girl!” Krayliss barked

then,with awry twist of hislips. “Come forward! Stepwherewecanseeyou!”Sasha cast her cloak away

from her left shoulder,exposing the hilt of hersword, andmoved quietly toKessligh's side. It was an

effort not to meet Krayliss'seyes, but she kept her gazedemurely on his broad chest,asagoodGoeren-yaimaidenshould among such mightywarriors. Surrounding her,some men stared indispleasure. Others withintent curiosity. And somewith mouths smirking inimitation of their lord, as ifthinking the matter somehugejest.“So…” rumbled Krayliss,

raking her from head to toewith his gaze. “The girlwhowas once a princess. Somemen still call you that, dotheynot?”“ThemenofLenayinshall

do as they will, my Lord,”Sasha replied, provokingsome laughter at that truism.“It is no longer my title, Iceased to be princesswhen IleftBaen-Tar.”“The bonds of blood are

deeper thanmere titles,girl,”

said Krayliss. Some of thesmirking ceased at thatutterance. The lord's eyesbore deeper. Sasha's instinctwas to meet challenge withchallenge. The effort to keephereyesloweredwasenoughto bring sweat to her brow.“These tales fromPerys.Therider who gave them wasyoung and with little hairbetween his legs…much likeourMasterJarydhere.”Aroaroflaughterfromthe

gathered men. Sasharepressed a retort withdifficulty. Sometimes, in herlove of the Goeren-yai, sheforgotwhyshedislikedLordKrayliss so greatly.Now sheremembered.“I did not slay ninemen,”

shesaidtightly.“Ha,” said one village

headman, contemptuously,“asIsaid.JustasIsaid.”“Islewfour.”Deathly silence across the

hall. “You witnessed thisdeed?” Krayliss askedKessligh.“Not I,” said Kessligh. “I

saw the bodies in theaftermath.”“I saw it!” called Jaryd to

thegroup,proudly.“Iwasnotten paces from the lastwhenhe fell! All four fell so fastandsoclosethatIhadbarelyyelled warning of the first,whenthelasthadfallenuponhiscorpse!Itwasamasterful

display and I pity thosewhowerenottheretoseeit!Evenas Verenthane, I swear Icould see the mark of yourspirits in the strokes of herblade!”Sasha swore beneath her

breath, through clenchedteeth.Stupid,ignorant,machoyoung fool.Ohhow shewasgoing to kick his backsidewhen theywereoutsideoncemore…“You make great claims,

young Master,” growledKrayliss, with considerabledispleasure. “What does aVerenthane know of suchthings? On what authoritydoes a follower of thelowlands order claimknowledge of the ancientspirits?”“I was there, my Lord,”

Jaryd retorted with all toolittle fear. Did he knowwhohe faced? Challenging LordKrayliss within his own hall

wasnotthesameasdefeatingwooden swords attournaments. In these parts,men fought to kill, not forgames. “I have eyes. I tellyouonlywhatIsaw.”“Even if true, it proves

nothing!” retorted anotherman, from the far sideof thelong table. “The spirits arenot guides for women! Theyneverhavebeen!”“Spirits alone were never

mentioned,”saidanother,low

and soft, as if fearing thepresenceofunspoken,unseenpower. “Only the Synnichwasmentioned.”There was about the room

another flurry of spirit signsandthemutteringofoaths.Insome faces now, there wasreal fear. Krayliss surveyedthe commotion with a dark,furrowedstare.“I don't believe her!”

pronounced another. “Themen of Hadryn are bastards,

yet their swordsmanship isunquestioned! Perhaps onlythe smallest handful of mencould defeat so many! Nowoman has such skill with ablade to take four in themanner described! Only awoman of Saalshen couldmanage such a feat, and agreatoneatthat!”“Exactly!” retorted

another. “A serrin womancould manage such a featbecause the serrin walk with

thespirits!”An uproar followed, men

shouting argument andcounterargument at close,heated range. In severalquarters, pushing broke out,quickly separated by coolerheadsbeforeitcouldescalate.To Sasha's left, Damon wasstaring about in disbelief. Toher right, Kessligh simplyfolded his arms and waited,asmany timeshehadwaitedfor a much younger

Sashandra Lenayin to ceaseher raging tempers beforeinsisting just as firmly upontheverythingthathadcausedthem. Sasha simply watchedLord Krayliss, unafraid nowofmeetinghisgaze.Kraylissstared back, unmoved withinthecommotion.Perhaps he expected her

gazetodrop.AngerburnedinSasha's stare. A warning,when the others were notlooking.AnditwasKrayliss's

eyesthatwidened,insurpriseandanger,fromthepowerofthatmeeting.“Enough!” he yelled, a

broad fist held high, and theclamoureasedasquicklyasithad begun. “Such debatesshouldwait fora laterhour,”he said darkly. “We haveother business to attend to.Prince Damon rides to servethejusticeofBaen-Tar.Littleenough hope do we of theGoeren-yaihaveinthejustice

ofVerenthanekings…”It was said with great

sarcasm and brought a harshlaugh from many of thosesurrounding.“He comes to us with a

mind full of questions!”Krayliss announced, inlouder,defiantly jovial tones.“Hewishestoknowthecauseof our old friend LordRashyd's death, and thereason his son stands uponourgatewithhisbladeinthe

turf, stamping his littletempertantrumnowthatpapais no longer about to spankhisskinnybackside!”Another laugh from the

men and some mugs wereraised in salute. KraylissturnedtoDamonwithdefiantconfidence.“Yes,IslewLordRashyd! His priests came toharass the Gessyl townsfolkand I rode to see them off!Rashyd crossed our borderuninvited and confronted us!

He spurred his horse againstmypeopleandIslewhimforhis insolence! And what,Prince of Lenayin, shall youdoaboutit?”“Takeyou toBaen-Tar for

a judgment at the king'spleasure,” Damon replied.Sasha blinked at Damon,unable to believe she'd heardsuch a decisive statement, socoolly delivered, in the faceof such defiance. For amoment, the entire hall

seemed hushed with similarsurprise.Krayliss threw back his

head and laughed. “Theyoung prince has some ballsafter all!” he roared, to aneruption of laughter thatshook the ceiling. “And howdo you propose to achievethis monumental feat, youngLenayin?”“Ishallawaitthearrivalof

my line companies,” Damonsaid icily, “andwe shall join

forces with the Hadryn.Shouldyou refuse to complywith my order, we shall killyouall.”Another silence followed.

Sasha's stomach tried rapidlyto tie itself in knots, to hergreatdispleasure.Therewasafine line,wheremostmenofher experience wereconcerned,betweenballsandstupidity. Only Kesslighcould be reliably expected tofind that precarious balance

withconsistency.“My father's law is quite

clear,” Damon continued.“Lord Rashyd deserved acensure for his conduct. Hedid not deserve death. Yourpunishment can only bedecided by the king himself,uponafullpresentationofthefacts.My task, I see now, isto take you there within thecustodyofthecrown.Shouldyourefuse,yourlifeisforfeit.I therefore suggest, Lord of

Taneryn, that you do notrefuse. For the sake of yourpeople.”Lord Krayliss's already

vast girth seemed to swelleven larger with rage. “Andfrom what time have theVerenthanes of Baen-Tarcared for the people ofTaneryn?” he snarled, bushyeyebrows and beard seemingto bristle like a great wildanimal. “Even now the kingcalls a great Rathynal, to

force his tame Verenthanelords to approve his decisionto march to war in thelowlands! A war in theBacosh,withwhomwe havenointerestwhatsoever!AwarforVerenthanecausesandtheprofitoflowlandsmerchants!WithsuchdotheVerenthanesofthetownsandcitiesseektoprotect their ill-gottenwealthand prestige—with the bloodof poor Goeren-yai farmerswhohave no interest in your

foreign causes and falsetitles!“Who but me will speak

for theGoeren-yai?Who butme is left to speak?” Heroared to theassembledmen.“It was royal Verenthaneslike this one who appointedonly Verenthane lords to theprovinces! It was they whobelittled us, scattered us,patronised and left us to ourfates at the hands of Hadryntyrants! Of all the Udalyn

descendants,Iamthegreatestof rank and the greatest ofhonour! Who but me willspeakforthetrue,theancient,the rightful people ofLenayin!”The roar that followed

paled all those previous, adeafening thunder thatthreatened to split Sasha'sears. There followed theheavy, rhythmic stamping ofboots on flagstones,accompanied by the hard

clapping of hands. Kraylisssurveyedhisnewcommotion,wipinghisbeardofthespittlethat now hung there, residueof his outburst. Pride burnedinhiseyes,vainandspiteful.This was a man, Sasha sawonly too well, who wasprepared todie forhiscause.No matter how many othershetookwithhimtohispyre.

“Entertaining,” Sasharemarked as they walkedfrom beneath the gates ofHalleryn. “Nothing like a bitof open hostility to developtheappetite.”“I've had worse meals,”

Damon muttered, tugging onhisridingglovesforwarmth.“When?” Sasha asked,

pullinghercloakmorefirmlyabouther.“Anytime someone thinks

it a grand idea to get me

togetherwithMarydBanysofRanash,andhermother.”Sashafrownedat that.The

sound of thewind above thevast, moonless dark of thelakeheldaneeriepower.Yet,for all the frozen chill of theopen night, it was a reliefindeed to be free of that halland the dark stares andmuttered, suspiciousconversation about the longtable. “Maryd is the eldestdaughter?”sheasked.

Damongruntedinreply.“I've made her

acquaintance,” Jarydremarked helpfully. He'dbeen attempting to appearuntroubled all night but, toSasha's eye, he lookedunsettled. For a young manpreviouslyuninterestedinthelordly affairs of Lenayin,suchencountersweresurelyalot to digest. “She's verypretty, think you not, PrinceDamon?”

“Aye,she'spretty,”Damonmuttered. “The wits of achicken and the charm of aleech,butshe'spretty.Dinnerwith Krayliss was a pleasantaffair compared to that.”Sasha shotKessligh a glanceand could have sworn shesawhimsmile.“So Father wishes you to

marry a Ranash girl?” Sashaquestioned further, withconsiderable distaste. “Anortherner?”

“Koenyg's idea,” Damonsaid, gazing off across thedark lake as the roadapproachedtheshore.“Two northern sisters-in-

law,” Sasha said withdispleasure. “I'm not sure Icouldstandit.WynaTelgarisenough.”“Poor girl,” Damon

retorted. “Youwouldn't havetoshareherbedfortherestofyour life, you've nothing tocomplainabout.”

“Ithinkwemustbetalkingof two different MarydBanyses,” Jaryd saidquizzically. “The girl Imeanis sweet-faced, black-hairedwith blue eyes and a fullbosom…”“And what interesting

topics have you discussedwith her, Master Jaryd?”Damon asked. “Have youspentmorethanaheartbeatinher presence? Or merelyadmired her bosom from

afar?”“It's a very nice bosom,

YourHighness.”“Master Jaryd nevermet a

bosomwithwhichhecouldn'thold a conversation,” saidSashawithasidewaysglance.Jaryd grinned. “Yours is

disappointinglyquiet.”“You just haven't asked it

the right questions.” Jarydlaughed. “These treaties ofmarriage are ludicrous,”Sasha continued. “Ranash

will obey the throne simplybecause their lord's daughtershares a prince's bed?Hadryn's behaviour hasbarelychangedsinceKoenygmarried Wyna…and littleDany now gives them aHadryn in the line ofsuccession.”“Theotherlordswillnotbe

happy if I marry anothernorthern girl,” said Damon.Her brother's eyes werejoyless in the wind-blown

torchlight. Damon thepetulant, he'd been calledbefore.Lately, however, he'dbeenDamon the grim. “Thisline of princes was going tobe a rich vein to be mined,but Krystoff died andWylfred now thinks to taketheholyvows,andsuddenly,with Koenyg wedded, fiveavailable princes are onlytwo. It's justme andMyklasleft, and I fear thecompetitionwillbefierce.”

“It's the creepingfeudalisation of Lenayin,”saidKessligh.Jaryd frowned. “The

what?”“Before King Soros,” said

Kessligh, “there were nolords and titles, justchieftains, clans and regionalallegiances that split intowarfareasoftenastheycametogether. But Soros didn'tonly bring the gods from thelowlands, he also brought

nobility,landtitlesandalltherest. He thought he wasbringing civilisation to thebarbarians. Lowlandscivilisation. Now, the lordssee that their powers do notmatchthoseoftheirlowlandscousins and they push formore. In the name ofcivilisation,ofcourse.”“It'll never work,” Sasha

saidfirmly.“LordAynsfarofNeyshtrieditjustafewyearsago, brought a hundred hire-

swordsfromthelowlandsanddeclared himself ruler of his‘ancestrallands’.ButGoeren-yai came from near and far,killed his hire-swords andtook his head. No man orwoman of Lenayin will beanyone'sserf—itmightbethelowlandsway,butnothere.”“You're talking of the

murder of Lord Aynsfar!”Jaryd realised, suddenlyaghast. “How can you…howcan you approve of that

barbarity? They tied himdownand tookhis limbsonejointatatimeuntil…”“Ihearditwasaswiftblow

to the neck,” Sashainterrupted, turning to walkbackward on the undulatinggrass, facing him. “I alsoheard that he was warnedrepeatedly, but gave onlythreats in return. Do thelowlandswaysappealtoyou,Jaryd? Would you like toinheritlandsforyourfamily?

Allowminorlordstolevytheroyaltaxinsteadoftheking?”Jaryd gave a protesting

smile,butDamon'seyeswerenow on him as well, andcurious. “I…I hadn't given itthat much thought…but, Imean, what's the harm?Lowlandscustomsworkverywelland…”“Inthelowlandstheywork

well,”saidDamon.“No harm?” Sasha added,

incredulously. “Would you

like to be ruled by asuccession of lords, ladiesand knights even before weget to Baen-Tar royalty? Itwasagreatenoughfeattogetordinary Lenays to swearallegiance to one king inBaen-Tar,you'daddall theseotherfoolsontopofthatandexpectthemtoacceptit?”“But…” Jaryd was

flusterednow.Sashadoubtedhe'd ever been challenged tojustify his own privilege

before in his life. “But thenoble families already haveauthority over theirregions…”“Horse shit,” said Sasha.

“The nobles derive theirauthority from the king andfrom each other, and that'sonly if they pray to thelowlandsgodsandhaveloadsand loads ofmoney to beginwith. No one ever asked therural folk, Jaryd. In theireyes, the nobility is just

another strange littleclan, allinterbred and foreign, andnothingtodowiththeirdailylives.“Theypaytaxestotheking

becausehe'stheking,andthesmall tax to the provinciallords because they're theking's men, and because itoccasionally does some goodwith roads and irrigationchannels and bridges and thelike.Therestofthemarejustdogs around the dinner table

as far as the villagers areconcerned, whining forscraps.”“But a noble lord offers

protection to his people withhisforces!”Jarydprotested.“In the Bacosh, they use

armies paid for by thepeasants’ coin tomurder andterrorise them,” Sasha saidfirmly, still walkingbackward.“IntheBacosh,theordinaryfolkhaveneithertheweaponsnortheskillstofight

back. Lenayin is vastlydifferent. They don't needyour protection, Jaryd, andthey certainly don't want it,andthey'llfightyoutoothandnail if you try to impose ituponthem.”She nearly spoiled her

speechbytrippingonunevenground, stumbling to recoverher balance. “Just…please,”sheadded,skippingsideways,“asafavourtome,lookaboutyouonthisride.Talktoyour

low-ranked men. Insist theybe honest with you. It's notonly sad that you shouldmisunderstand your ownpeople,it'sdangerous.”They crossed the wooden

bridgeoncemore,theHadryncamp laid before them, aflickering line of campfiresandshadowyactivity.“My Lords,” said one of

the Royal Guards as theyapproached the main line oftents, drawing their attention

forward.Risingfromthelightof a large campfire were asmall cluster of well-dressedHadryn men, buckles andclasps gleaming in thefirelight. They strodeforward, a wall of weaponryandself-importance.“Did your negotiations go

well, Prince Damon?” camethe loud voice of UsynTelgar. Some of his menlaughed with ugly humour.“Negotiation,”inthenorthern

tongues, had never been anhonourableword.Itreekedofcompromise and cowardice.TheRoyalGuardstoppedandparted, Damon comingforwardtoconfronttheyoungTelgardirectly.“Well enough,” Damon

said. “Did you wish to raisesomematterwithme?”“Yoursister,” said another

man, with great sarcasm,“appears to claim the title ofsaviour of the Goeren-yai!”

Thenewspeakerwasdressedin the travelling finery ofnorthernnobility,short-hairedwith a little, trimmed goatee.He'd been drinking, Sashajudged. They all had. “Amessage arrived from Perysjust now, apparently sheinflicted great carnage therein the nameof pagan spirits!These claims are an insultand, in the name of thedevout House of Varan, Idemandanapology!”

“You'll get nothing,”Damon replied. “My sister isnotresponsiblefortheclaimsothers make. I suggest,MasterFarysVaran, thatyoudonotraiseyourvoiceinherdirectionagain.”“Pah!” Farys spat, with a

blazeofanger.“Sheceasedtobe a Verenthane princesswhenshe leftBaen-Tar!Youhave no brotherly claim onher honour, Prince of Baen-Tar! These pagan lies

dishonourthenamesofbraveHadrynwarriors who die forthe honour of their gods!Donot defend her, sir! Shecomes here upon our landsand she has the temerity toclaim victories overVerenthane warriors afterjoining forces with barbarianscum to celebrate theirdeaths!”“Your lands, Master

Farys?” Damon replied,darkly furious. “We stand

upon the lands of Taneryn.Doyouclaimthem?”Sasha's gaze ran along the

line of Hadryn faces. All,clearly,wereofnobleHadrynfamilies. Their ages varied,from hot-headed youngsters,to cold-eyed, calculatingelders. Sasha wondered, herheart assuming a familiar,unpleasant rhythm, if they'dput Master Farys up to it.There were an increasingnumber of armed men

gatheringbehindtowatch.“Weclaimnolands,”Usyn

Telgar said coldly, his facestrained as thoughwithholding some greatoutburst. “Weclaimonly thesatisfaction of avenging ourlord…”“I claim more!” shouted

Master Farys, steppingforward to thrustanaccusingfingerpastDamon's shoulderat Sasha…and Sasha notedthe silver-haired man at

Farys's side give a cold,satisfiedsmileattheoutburst.Farys'seyeswereblazing,hisface flushed red. “I demandan apology from this falseprincess! The honour ofHadryn has been slighted! Ifit were not enough that thegod-fearing men of Lenayinhad to suffer the insult of acowardly, woman-chasing,pagan-loving fool of an heirnamedKrystoffforsolong,isit now our fate thatwemust

sufferhissister's—”Sasha snapped and

abruptly strode forward witha hand moving to hershoulder. Kessligh grabbedher arm, but she smacked itaway with her other hand,spinning clear to draw herblade as weapons rang clearin the night air all around.Before any could move tostrike, Sasha drew back herarm and hurled the swordpoint-firstintotheturfbefore

MasterFarys'sfeet.Allfroze,staringatthequiveringblade.“Thisdawn,MasterFarys,”

Sasha said icily, “I challengeyoutodefendyourhonour.”For a long moment, there

was only the shudderingwhistle of the wind and theflapping of banners. ThenFarys laughed, high andslightly hysterical. “Youchallenge me to a duel?”Disbelievingly. “I cannotfightawoman!”

“Then you are a coward!”Sashasnarled.Farys turned pure white,

his newly drawn bladetremblingwithinhishands.“Ishouldstrikeyoudownwhereyoustand,whore!”“With your guards and

friends tobackyour flanks?”Sasha said contemptuously.“Need you so muchassistance to defeat a singlegirl?” Farys's mouth workedopenandclosed in soundless

fury. “No answer? Will younot accept? Snivelling,whining, bed-wettingcoward?”Farys's clenched teeth

partedandhe letout agreat,shuddering roar…yet did notadvance. Sasha knew, fromthe darting eyes of theHadryn before her, thatKessligh was close at herback,bladeattheready.Thatalone would make even thebravest, angriest, drunkest

warriorthinktwice.“I accept!” Farys bit out,

hoarse with effort.“Tomorrow at dawn, the liesandmyths of the Goeren-yaiprincessdie!”The silver-haired man at

Farys's shoulder placed ahandupontheyoungerman'sarm, lowering his weaponwith a final look of coldsatisfaction.Farys'stremblinghand lowered and he thrustpast his companions toward

thecampfire.Allabout,therecame the sound of slidingsteel as blades retreated intosheaths, the line of Hadrynnobility fading back, theirdeparting expressions bothangryandsmug.“Sasha?” Damon said

cautiously, stepping forwardto stand at her side as sheretrieved her sword from theturf, andwiped dirt from theend. “Sasha, what did youjustdo?”

“I defended Krystoff'shonour,” Sasha said shortly.Her heart was beating hard,but not with the feveredthumping of fear orexcitement. This was colder,morecalculating.Damonjuststared at her, greatly pained.And it occurred to Sashathen, with only a mildsurprise,thathefearedforherlife.“Sasha, that was Farys

Varan, son of Udys Varan!

He's…he'sknownbyalltobeone of Hadryn's finestswordsmen…”“Forget it,” Kessligh said

grimly, taking a place atSasha's side, eyeing theretreating Hadryn withcalculation.“Farys'sacorpse.It's what happens after he'sdeadthatworriesme.”Sasha could hear the hard

displeasure in his voice. Shedidn't care. When the furycaughtherlikethis,sherarely

did.

Camp that night was anabandonedbarnonthevalleyfloor.Sashasatonahaybale,herback toonecornerof thebarn's outer wall, where itwould shelter her from thewind. On the grass nearby,there were many sheephuddled—Sasha knew onlybecause of the occasional,

restlessbleating, theirwoollyshapesmostlyinvisibleinthedarkness. She gazed at thestars for a long, long time,thinking of many things, yetofnothinginparticular.Sleepseemedfaraway.Adarkshadowapproached

soundlessly to her left, fromover by the barn's mouth.There was just enough lightforhertomakeoutKessligh'sfamiliar outline, evenwrapped in heavy cloak and

blanket. He settled onto thehaybaleathersidewithoutaword. For a while they sattogether,umananduma,andgazedatthestars.“It's past time for my

watch,”Kesslighsaidthen.“I won't sleep,” Sasha

replied.“Imightaswell takeanother watch if I'm to stayawake.”“The surest way not to

sleep is not to try,”Kesslighremarked. “Meditate. I slept

wellenoughduringthewarinfull knowledge that I wouldfight the next day. Youshouldmanage.”“Probably.”Somehow, she

just couldn't manage theenergy for one of theircustomary arguments oftechniqueandmethod.“Sasha,” Kessligh said

then,with the note of amanabouttobeginsomething…“I don't know what else I

could have done,” Sasha cut

him off, tiredly. “There arelines to be drawn. In thisland, respect is everything,andtotoleratesuchdisrespectis to invite our enemies toattack us. Master Faryscrossed the line. The northcannot be allowed to thinktheir Lenay enemies will notfight back, otherwise theywill continue to push andpush,andsooneverygroupinthe land that does not agreewith their bigoted ways will

find themselves underattack.”“I agree,” said Kessligh.

Sashaturnedherheadagainstthe wooden barn wall andgazed at the dark outline ofhis face. “I blamemyself, inpart.Butthewayoftheumanis not the way of a parent. Icannot dictate your path toyou, I can only help you tofindyourown.“And I have seen this

coming for a long time. I've

warned you, haven't I?”Glancingacrossather,afaintmotioninthedark.“Iwarnedyou of consequences shouldyou continue your attractiontotheGoeren-yaisoopenly.Itoldyou theoffence itwouldcause, here in the north inparticular. But perhaps, likesomanythings, itwasmeanttobe.”Sasha frowned. “That

doesn't sound like serrinphilosophy. That sounds

fatalistic.”Kessligh shrugged. “I am

human,afterall.Butthenitisserrinphilosophy,too.Lifeisa battle, Sasha.All existenceis in conflict. We fight theelements, we fight ourconsciences, we fight thelimitations and eventualmortality of our bodies. Allthings happen by conflict, ofone sort or another. Theserrin have long recognisedthisfact.Once,longago,they

foughtamongstthemselvesaswe did. But then, havingaccepted the inescapablereality of conflict, they setthemselves toward findingways of living with it andnegating its worstconsequences.”He sighed, softly, and

resettledhisshouldersagainstthe hard barn wall, seekingbetterposture.“Itwasalwaysgoing to be trouble, Sasha.Choosing you for my uma.”

Sasha'seyesstrainedtomakeouthisexpression.“Iknewitthen,andIknowitnow.ButIcouldmakenootherchoice.Iknewthechoicewouldcauseconflict, but sometimes, aforest fire brings new life,and from bloodshed canspring renewal. Suchmattersare not always ours todecide.”“Renewal,” Sasha

murmured. “That's aGoeren-yaiphilosophy.”

“Warlike cultures alwaysbelieve in renewal,”Kesslighreplied. “Theyhave to.”Andthen, before she couldrespond…“Sasha, I'm nothappy thatyouchosea fight.I sympathise with yourreasons, but you are far tooimportant to be riskingyourself in such a way.Important to your role asuma, and important to mepersonally.“However, what's done is

done.AndIknowyou,Sasha.You cannot sleep becauseyou feel compassion. Evenfor a thug like Farys Varan,you feel compassion becauseyou know your skills utterlyoutclass his. I know becauseI've faced the same. Whenyour opponent has so littlechance, it feels like murder,and then youmust face yourconscience.”He reached from beneath

his blanket and clasped her

shoulder with one firm,sword-hardened hand. “Feelno pity for him, Sasha.Onlyyou can cause your defeattomorrow morning. Asskilled as you are, anyhesitation, any indecisionagainst a man of his talentswill surely cost your life.Aslong as you remain hathaal,he cannot touch you. Buthathaal requires totalconcentration and technicalperfection. In that way, he

actually hasmore leeway forerrorthanyou.Hefightswithstrength and strength isalways strong, even whenimperfectly applied. Forsvaalverd, strength comesfrom the application itself.Should the application fail,you shall lose not onlytechnique, but strength aswell.”“I know,” Sasha

murmured.“Iknowthat.Theedgeisfine,evenagainstmy

opponents in the Baerlyntraining hall. At my best,even the best of them is nochance against me. When Ifight distracted, or withoutfull concentration, I comehomeblackandblue.But…”and she took a deep,shuddering lungful of coldair,“…youknowmymoods.I cannot sustain one emotionfor any long period. Andnow,asmuchasIhatedFarysatthetime,andstillhatehim

now…itisdifficulttosustain.That'sall.”“You hold the Hadryn

responsible for Krystoff'sdeath,” Kessligh remindedher.Sasha nodded. “I do,” she

murmured.“Butitwasnotbytheirownhands.ItwasnotbyFarys's hand.” A flash ofmemory…apriestatthedoorto the tuition room. Musicallessons—thepiccolopipe,noless. A grave, sombre man,

kneeling at Sasha's side.Dawning trepidation andterror. “They misinformedhim as to the size of theCherrovan raiding party.They knew he would chargeinandbedefeatedbysuperiornumbers. Once, I thought Icould kill every man inHadrynforthattreachery.Butnow…”Shebrokeoff,unabletofinishthesentence.Alumpgrew in her throat. For amoment, there was only the

silenceofthevast,coldnight.“Perhaps I don't love him

enough,” Sasha whispered.The piccolo pipe, falling tothe floor. Breaking. “Hewasmy only true friend. He hadfaith inmewhennooneelsewould. Idreamedofduellingwith Hadryn men forvengeance for many years. Ishould not be having thesedoubts. If I'd truly lovedKrystoff, I'd kill Farys anddanceonhiscorpse.”

“Dreaming is easy,” saidKessligh.“Killingishard.”“It shouldn't be,” Sasha

said. “Not if you believe inthe cause.” She gazed at heruman,hereyeshurting.“Howdid you do it? You've killedsomany. How do you do it,andnotdoubt?”“Ialwaysdoubt,”Kessligh

replied, with as close asSasha had ever heard himcometoagentletone.“Whenyou cease to doubt, you are

lost.But theworld isas it is,Sasha.Onecannotfindpeacewithout accepting that.People die and people kill,andevenifweareallflawedpeople, we cannot achieveanythinggoodifweallowourenemies to defeat us. Wemust survive, Sasha. Youmust survive. Now, by yourown choice, youmust kill tosurvive.Andyoushall.”

Sashagazedat themistuponthelakeasshewalkedbehindherhonourguard,sixmenofthe Falcon Guards who hadvolunteeredfor theduty.Theeastern hills formed a dark,rugged line against the palesky. High above, sunlightcaughtdistantwispsofcloudand turned them brilliantyellow against the blue. Thegrass beneath her boots wasdamp, a not-quite frost that

layacrossthevalleyplainandgavethehuddledwhitesheepsomething todrinkwith theirmorningfeed.Her honour guard were

leadinghertowardthebridgewherethetachadarcirclehadbeen formed upon theHalleryn side of the river.Thetownwallsrosecloseandthe gathering by the streamwas well within arrowshot,yetallpresentweresafefromTanerynarchers.NoGoeren-

yaiarcherwouldeverdisruptthe solemnity of suchproceedings.Alongthewalls,Sasha could see the darkshapesofmanymengatheredanywhere they could find avantage. The Hadryn, it wasplain, expected the Goeren-yai princess to die thismorning. And they wantedtheTaneryn to see ithappen,firsthandandpersonal.She followed her honour

guard across the bridge and

upthegrassybanktowardthegathering ahead. Themen ofher honour guardwere all inthefullarmourandcoloursofthe Falcon Guard, save fortheir helms. Long, braidedhair hung free on theshoulders of the threeGoeren-yai, who marchedwith the slow, arrogantswagger of Goeren-yaimanhood, a hand clasped tothe hilt of each sword andthreatineverystep.Thethree

Verenthane soldiers walkedin a line behind theircomrades, with no lessintimidating a posture for alltheir lack of swagger. Threeof each, Goeren-yai andVerenthanetogether.Itwasaclear anddefiant symbol.Nodoubt the Hadryn, and theTaneryn onlookers from thewalls,wouldnotice.Behind, at a suitable

distance, followed Damon,Kessligh, Jaryd, Lieutenant

Reynan and the six RoyalGuardsmen. Captain Tyrunhadremainedbehindwithhistroops, as at least one seniorofficerwas required to do. Itwas unclear why LieutenantReynanhadcome,exceptthathisfamilyconnectiontoLordJaryd gave him someinfluence.AloneoftheTyreemen, he seemed vastlydispleased by proceedingsandworeascowlbeneathhishelm. Perhaps he hoped she

wouldlose.Ahead, a party of Hadryn

nobleshadgatheredaboutthefar, northern side of thetachadar circle, some houseguards and regular troopsamongst them. Perhapstwentymen,Sashacountedasthey approached. On the farbank, a great many soldierswere now gathering, theirofficers attempting to formthem intoorderly lines, soasnot to present disarray in

viewofthewallsofHalleryn.As Sasha's party strodecloser, therecamesomeyellsfrom the walls to the right.Encouragement, Sasharealised,althoughshedidnotpay attention to the words.The uma of Kessligh wasgoing to fight the Hadryn inhonourablecombat.Whatevertrouble Lord Krayliss hadwith Kessligh's uma, itevidentlydidnotextendtoallthesoldiersofTaneryn.

Answeringyellscamebackfrom the troops across theriver and suddenly the still,sombremorning erupted intoraucous cheering, one sideagainst theother.Sasha let itwash over her, her breathingcalm as Kessligh's traininghad taught, her pulse leveland controlled. Her eyesremained fixed on thegathering ahead and themanin shiny, polished brownleathers beneath a flowing

black cloak, standing upontheedgeofthecirclewithhisbladeunsheathed,point-downontheturf.The honour guard reached

the circle's edge and parted.Sashatookherplace,thetoesof her boots on the smallstones that defined the rim,and the yelling grew evenlouder.Ahornblewfromthewall to her right and thentherecamethethunderingrollof a hide drum as many

hundreds of Goeren-yai mentried to equal the racket ofthrice that number fromacross the river. From acrossthe circle, Master FarysVaranwasstaringather,eyesblazingwith all the fire sucha reception would breedwithintheheartofanyLenaywarrior. Sasha felt a tinglingdown her spine and thenelsewhere as the sensationspread. Little sleep thoughshe'd had, she could not

remember ever having feltmoreawake.Colours,soundsand smells assaulted hersenses. She took a deepbreathofthechillmorningairandsurveyedthecircle.It waswide, perhaps eight

armspans in diameter, withroom enough about theperimeter for at least thirtymen to stand shoulder toshoulder. The silver-hairedman of the previous eveningwas now removing Farys's

cloak fromhis shoulders andfoldingitceremoniously.Oneof Sasha's honour guard didlikewiseforherandherlimbswelcomed the chill air.Another man, a Verenthane,presented her sword in itsscabbard—a Goeren-yaitradition, performed by thisVerenthanesoldierathisowninsistence. He had beenpresent when she had slainthose four at Perys, Sashaknew. She drew the blade

clear,leavingthesoldierwiththescabbard,andsteppedintothecircle.The yells, horns and

drumbeats faded, thenceasedcompletely. Once again,silence ruled thevalley.ThatabrupttransitiongaveSashaaworse chill than the last, andher breathing threatened toquickenasherheartskippedabeat. Focus, she reprimandedherself,testingthefeeloftheblade in one, thin-gloved

hand.Donotthink.Be.Behind and in front, men

of both parties moved aboutthecircle,findingspaceforaclearvantage.Oneofthem,inflowing black robes, steppedinto the circle andwalked tothe centre. A priest, Sasharegistered. Of course thearmies of Hadryn wouldbring their holy men withthem.Reachingthecentre,heproduced a small book andbegan reading. Across the

northern side of the circle,men bowed their heads inprayer.Someof the southernsidedidalso.The priest completed his

incantation and holy signswere made upon heart andlips. The silver-haired manwho had taken Farys's cloakmet her gaze by chance andsmiledasmug,contemptuouslittle smile. These were themenwhokilledKrystoff.Thehatred flared, a rising sea of

moltenfire.Focus,sheforcedherselfwitheffort.Angercanworkforyou.Don'tdrowninit.ThepriestwalkedtoFarys,

who sank to one knee, theswordheldpointdownbeforehim. The priest blessed himwithobviousreverence.Thenturned in a swirl of blackrobes and considered Sashadarkly as Farys rose at hisback. Dark smiles spreadacrossthegatheringbehindto

see thepriest'smanner.Thenhe walked toward her. ButSashadidnotkneel.“Child,donotbefoolish!”

the priestwhispered in harshtemper as an angry murmurspread across the circle'snorthern side. “You mustmake your peace with thegods,foryourfather'ssake!”Sashamethisstarewithan

intensity that made thepriest's eyes widen. And heblessed himself in recoiling

reflex. “Why?” she askedhim. “I won't be the onemeetingthemtoday.”The priest blessed her

hurriedly as she remainedstanding, then departed inhaste. The silver-haired manthensteppedintothecircleasangry ripples continuedamongsttheHadryn.“Lettherecord state,” he cried to allthose watching, “that MasterFarys Varan, son of LordUdys Varan, has been

challengedtothisduelbytheuma of KesslighCronenverdt!Let italsostatethat this challenge was onlyaccepted following the mostgrievous provocation andinsult to Master Farys'shonour!TheumaofKesslighCronenverdt presumes towieldtheauthorityofaman!Ifamanshethinksherselftobe, then let her be treated asone!”The silver-haired man

glared proudly across allgathered. Then, with aspiteful, final stare at Sasha,heturnedanddeparted.Farysadvanced,proudinhisstride,broad shoulders set.Imparting upon the occasionall thehonouranddignityhecould muster for the ritualslaying of an impetuous girl.But he would do this all thesame, for thepurposesofhismasters, who had surely puthimuptoit.KilltheGoeren-

yai princess. Discredit thehated Kessligh Cronenverdt.Showthepaganfoolsthesumtotal of all their hopes andprophecies. And show to allLenayin that the tales ofserrin martial prowess werenothing more thansuperstitious fables, to pavethe way for the holy war tocome.Sashafoundthatshecould

not move. Her booted feetremained anchored, her

previouscalmslippingas theblood began to pound in herears.Shewouldkill thismanto suit her purposes. Hewasignorant. He did not knowwhathefaced.Suddenly,shesaw before her not a hatednortherner, a peddler of spiteand bigotry, but just a man,thesameasanyother.Hehada father and a mother, andmore family besides. Heseemedtohaveperhapsthirtysummers,andsoprobablyhe

hadawifeandchildren,also.Surely thereweremanywholoved him. She had killedmen before in battle, whowere trying to kill her at thetime. This was…somethingcompletelydifferent.Krystoff's coffin, open

before the altar of the SaintAmbellion Temple. She hadwornawhitedressandheldawhite lily in her hands.Remembered numbness. Ablack,all-encompassinggrief.

Shehadwantedtheservicetobegrand, todo justice to thegreat, gaping void that hadopened in her world. To dojustice to Krystoff. To theway he had made her feelwhen he smiled at her, orlaughed at her humour, orhuggedherandmadeherfeelwarm and loved as no oneelse in that grey, formalworldhadevermadeherfeel.The funeral had failed

miserably to do any of that.

She had concluded in hergrief and despair thateverything was fake andnothing that she knew wasworth keeping. She hadsmashed things and attackedherminders;refusedtoeatfordays on end. That day at thefuneral, even more than theday she had learned ofKrystoff'sdeath,shehadtrulybecomeanunbeliever.Alloftheir rules, all the ceremony,all the fancy clothes and

pompous manners, and herfather's strict and formalhabits…it was all a great,stupid fraud. She'd alwayssuspected it. That day, she'dhadproof.Something now drew her

gaze down to both lightlygloved hands, grasped in atight, unthinking grip aboutthe hilt of her sword. Stronghands, calloused in all theright places. She'd workedhard and gleefully on those

callouses when Kessligh hadfirst brought her to Baerlyn.Her hands then had been thehandsofalittlegirl—softandpale. Kessligh had given herthe hard, capable hands of awarriorandshelovedhimforthat. But for all his lessons,his relentless training, highstandards and crypticwisdom,theloreoftheNasi-Keth alone could not givethosehands the strength theyrequired for the task at hand.

The Nasi-Keth were an ideatoher.Awonderfulidea,fullof promise and the prospectof a brighter future for all.But that idearemained in thefuture, beyond the reach ofthepresent.Andherpresent…she took

adeep,coldbreathasitcameto her, slowly, yet with thebuilding force of revelation.Her present had been storiesfrom old Cranyk before thefireplace of his old, creaking

housenearthetraininghall—tales of great deeds andheroic warriors, of pride andhonour,andallthethingsthatmade life worth living. HerpresentwasaneveningattheSteltsyn Star withmusic anddance, and friends, andlaughing so hard that shenearlycried.HerpresentwasthetraditionoftheWakening,the wise scolding of thewomen, the worship of thespirits that dwelled in all

living things and thatoverpowering, timeless bondwiththenaturalworld.Those things had been her

presentsincethetimeshehadarrived from Baen-Tar. Lostand disconnected from theworld, the wisdom andhumour of the Goeren-yaihad come to make her feelwhole again. They hadreassured her that life wasindeed a great and noblething,andwellworthtreating

as such. Kessligh had givenherthehandsofawarriorandthemind of a thinker…yet itwas the Goeren-yai who hadrelit thefire inherheart.Shetook another deep breath,shoulders heaving, poisedwithin the tachadar circlewith a serrin blade in herhands. The confusion liftedand suddenly all was clear.She was Goeren-yai. And itwassimple.Shemovedforward,barely

aware that they were hersteps,likepawsuponthewet,morning grass. Her visionseemed to burn unnaturallysharp and she could almostcount the bristles on Farys'sbroad chin. She may havenever done this before, butthe Goeren-yai had practisedits like for as long as therehad been people in Lenayin.She stood upon the sacredground of countless previousbattles, watched by the eyes

of countless reincarnatedsouls. The cycle was never-ending and thismoment wasnothing so rare and preciousas she had imagined. It wasmerelyher turn, thatwas all,and the surgeof ancient furylitafireinherveins.Her blade moved to the

starting pose with barely athought. The posture felt amodelofmuscularperfection,the feet spread to shoulderwidth,thekneesslightlybent,

poised with a coiled,motionless power. Her gripontheswordhadneverfeltsofirm and secure. Herbreathing came calm andimpossibly, deadeninglyslow. Her heart barelyseemed to beat at all. Theworld felt so calm. So still.She savoured the moment.Shedidnotwantittoend.Farys moved. A shift in

footwork brought his bladeslashing for her neck. It

seemed only natural that herown posture should shift inturn,afootslidingbackasthehands came up, anintersection of steel at theshoulders, a brace of perfectpower through arms, backand legs. Farys's bladedeflected effortlessly by,glancing from her swingingedge like a skate on ice. Shecouldperhapshavefinisheditthen with his guard exposedin the follow-through, the

commonestformofdeathforregular fighters against thesvaalverd…yet theperfectionwas lacking and the feetcould not quite position forthestrokethehandsdesired.He recovered fast and

pressed theattack.This time,there were no enormousfollow-throughs, as ifsomeone had thought tocoach him what not to do.Sasharetreated,asteptoeachstroke as their facing shifted,

countering one, and another,and then another in a clever,deceptive combination thatswung at the last moment toan unexpected, high-quarterslash from an interruptedbackswing. But it was thesimplest,mostbeautifulthingintheworldtoshiftherguardfrom low to high, switchingtheretreatingfoottorearandrotating that defence into afast,offensivecut.Faryssurvivedonlywitha

desperate,downward slamofhis blade, but his left footfailed the transition, and soshe swung to that sideinstead. His frantic parrybarely made it in time, andhis balance not at all as hestumbled back a step…andthat necessary movementopened theway for themostexquisite shift of balance toherforwardpivotfoot,asthebladecircledtohislow,rightquarter and slashed him

cleanlyopenfromrighthiptoleftshoulder.Farys stumbled back,

slowly collapsing as his eyesstared in disbelief. Bloodspurted in a horrid flood,drenching vest and legs, andhe crumpled in a motionlessheaponthegrass.Sashaheldthat posture, blade held highinfinalflourish,armperfectlyextended from the shoulder,feet at the precise positionand angle. It was the most

beautiful thing she had everdone, that killing stroke. Soperfect. So supreme. Shegazed up at the lethal,gleaming edge, almostbloodless with the speed ofher strike, and marvelled atherownmagnificence.Of the horrified gasps,

cries and then yells from theHadryn surrounding, shewasonly dimly aware. Of thesudden roar from theHalleryn walls, beyond the

silent pause that followedFarys's fall, even less so.Except that suddenly, therewas a sound of rumplingcloth, a cloak thrown backandahigh,metallicslideofasmallbladeleavingitssheath.Adesperateyellcamefrom

the perimeter's friendly sideand she spun, aware only ofanonrushingthreat,herbladeslashing to meet it…andstruck the knife frommidair,sending it spinning into the

nearby turf. The throwerhimselfwas felled amomentlater, clutching another knifein his neck, and then thereweremenbreaking thecircleon all sides in a flurry ofdropping cloaks and flashingblades.Before she could think to

find her target, Kesslighwasbeside her, dropping oneonrushing man with a singlestroke of such simplicity, ittook her breath away.

Another, too, came at him,Kessligh simply steppedinside the swing, cuttinghimdown as a gardener mightslashaweed.Amidst the confusion,

someone slashed from herleft…Sasha ducked, butalreadythatbodywasfalling,cut down by Jaryd, his eyeswide with fury. Then, asabruptlyasithadbegun,itallstopped. An entire line ofHadryn lords and men,

behind the two Kessligh hadfelled, were now allwavering, staring withfearful, furious stares atKessligh. Falcon and RoyalGuards alike had closed atSasha's sides,weapons readyandeager.“Honour has been

satisfied,”Kesslightoldthemall. His voice was hard, yetcalmer than Sasha had heardin many a training session.“The result is clear. Take

your losses and leave. Bethankful I ignore thecowardly knife and do notchallenge each of you tomortalcombat,oneatatime,foryourcomplicity.”Sasha had never seen any

array of faces more furious,and more hateful, than thoseof the Hadryn lordsconfronting them. Nor, shethought, more scared. Theydrew back, gathering thebodies of their fallen as they

went. Sasha looked over herleft shoulder to where Jarydstill stood above the body oftheman he'd killed. It was alongwaybacktohavebeenaHadryn man…and sherealised with shock that thedead man was a FalconGuard.Another guardsman knelt

to remove the fallen man'shelmet…it had a lieutenant'screst and came off to revealthe heavy, round face of

Lieutenant Reynan. Therewas blood in his mouth andhiseyesweresightless.Jarydstood above him, his swordbloody, breath coming ingreat gasps. The kneelingguardsman stared up indisbelief.“Whatdidyoudo?”hesaid

in horror, a hand creeping tothepommelofhissword.“No,” said another,

stepping forward. “I saw it.Reynan would have struck

M'Lady Sashandra frombehind. Hemeant to kill herintheconfusion.”Sasha stared at Jaryd.

Reynan Pelyn had beenbrother to Lord TymethPelyn, from one of the mostpowerful noble families ofTyree.“I'd thought his manner

odd last night and thismorning,” Jaryd saidhoarsely, as Kessligh andDamonpushed in to see.His

eyes met Sasha's. “I askedhimwhattroubledhimandhemuttered something about“that brat” ruiningeverything. He never likedyou, M'Lady, I thought hewas just…justmaking talk. Iwaswary,butIneverthoughthe'd…”“Treachery,” said a

guardsman—a Verenthane.“Unbefitting of a Tyree manoraVerenthane.Hegotwhathedeserved.”

“Even that horsefly Faryshas more honour,” hisGoeren-yai comrade agreed.“At least he gave hischallengetoherface,notherback.”“Coward,”agreedathird.They withdrew from the

circle, leaving their formerlieutenant alone on theground, gazing sightlessly atthe grey morning sky. Sashafelt lightheaded and shorter,somehow, her posture no

longer quite so perfect, allcoloursandsoundsnolongersosharp.“You saved my life,” she

said to Jaryd, determinedlyfocused on keeping herbalanceastheywalked.She'dseen an honour duel oncebeforewherethevictor's legshadfoldedbeneathhiminthemidst of his victorycelebration. Now, she knewwhy.“I would have done so

even were you my enemy,”Jarydmuttered.Hisnormallyconfident,carefreeexpressionwas darkened with fury.“Some things cannot betolerated, even from familyallies.”“Even so,” Sasha added,

determined to give furtherthanks,butJarydcutheroff.“Damn fool, I shouldhave

known!” he snarled. “Theywere plotting, damn them.Nowthere'llbeLoth'sransom

topay.”The chanting from the

Halleryn walls continued,accompaniednowbymultipledrums,andthepiercingshrillof reed pipes. Sasha pushedfree of her surroundingcompany and walked acrossthe open grass before thewalls. The cheer eruptedlouder to a full-fledged roar.Shecouldseeacrowdofmenatop the walls, fists andswords held aloft. The

Goeren-yai. Saluting her aspassionately as they'd eversaluted anyone. The tears inhereyesspilledandrandownhercheeks.Sheplacedthesworddown

and held both arms aloft,palms outward, then loweredthem slowly, requestingsilence. Slowly, the volumedeclined. And then, finally,themorningstillreturned.Aneerie, unreal hush, after thedin that had been. Sasha

pressed both palms togetherbefore her forehead andbowed in thanks and respect.Such triumphalism was notwhat the situation needed; ithad cost far too muchalready.A horn sounded by

Halleryn's main gate,announcing an imminentdeparture. The royal partywaitedandtheHadrynmovedtheir bodies to the stream,wheresomeonehadbroughta

raft to save them thehumiliation of the long walkback. Upon the far bank,Hadryn soldiers milled inshock and anger. Even at aglance,Sashacouldseemuchgesticulation, rude handgestures and raised voices.She hoped that the FalconGuard, back at their camp,were prepared for anyeventuality.Then,fromthemaingate,a

grand, chestnut warhorse

clattered onto the road andturned along thewall towardthem. Two more ridersflanked their leader, Tanerynbanners flying, and Sasharecognised Lord Kraylissastride the leading horse,riding square-shouldered andproudashismenwatchedonfromtheirwall-toppositions.Theriderslefttheroadand

approached across the grass,haltingbeforetheroyalparty.Krayliss swung his heavy

weight from the saddle,rearranging his cloak aboutthe enormous sword at hiship. His dark eyes peeredfrom beneath thick blackbrows, his expressionunreadablebehindtheprofuseblack beard. He inclined hishead to Damon and thenagain, more deeply, toKessligh at Damon's righthand. He had watchedproceedings from thewall, itwas very clear. Sasha was

only a little surprised whenthe gaze then swung andfixeduponher.Lord Krayliss strode

toward her, a hand upon themassivehiltofhissword,andknelt to one knee, his headbowed. Sasha blinked. Thatwas unexpected. It broughther no joy, and even lesswhenKrayliss liftedhisgazeand beheld her from thatposition. There wascalculation in his eyes. This

wasadisplay forhismen.Acold dread replaced thegeneral unease in the pit ofher stomach. This just gotworseandworse.“Princess Sashandra!” he

announced, in a loud,ponderous tone. That bassvoice would surely carry tothenearestpositionsatop thenearbywalls.“Ihaddoubted,but today we have seen forourowneyes.TheSynnichisyour guide. You are the one

whohasbeenchosen.Forgivemyshort-sightedness.”“I do not claim the

guidance,” Sasha said softly.“I have not been chosen foranything.”“Iconcede to theauthority

of the Synnich!” Kraylissannounced, ignoring herstatement entirely. “I shallleave this place and ride toBaen-Tarwhere I shall awaitthe judgment of the king onthis dispute! The armies of

theking shall remainbehind,and see that the Hadryn areescorted from the lands ofTaneryn!Theystatethattheirquarrel iswithme alone, notwithTaneryn,andsoweshallsee them prove it! I shall doall of this on one condition!That the Princess SashandraLenayin shall give me herword,thewordofoneguidedbytheSynnichitself,thatsheshall ensure all fairness andimpartiality upon my trial

before the king, and that sheshall guarantee that the goodpeople of Taneryn are notmade to suffer at anyone'shand! I ask the Princess ofLenayin, does she grant meherword?”Sasha took a deep breath.

ThelakebeyondtheHallerynwalls was serenely beautifulas yellow flushed the easternskyatopthehills.Above,thelooming presence of MountHalleryn looked down. The

chill air smelled sharp andfresh.“Igivemyword,”shesaid

with as firm a voice as shecould muster. WhateverKrayliss's intentions, sheknew that shehadnochoice.Toendithere,toseparatethewarring sides before thebloodshedcouldescalate intoterribleproportions…surelyitwas worth her word? Whatwasasimplewordagainstthelives of hundreds? Perhaps

thousands?And yet she knew with

dread certainty, as Kraylissgrasped her hand in his andplaced it to his lips, that thatword would cost her. InLenayin, the price of honourwasneverslight.Krayliss regained his feet

and turned to Damon andKessligh. “I shall makepreparations to rideimmediately. What are yourplans?”

“Ishallawaitthearrivaloffurther forces,” Damonannounced. “They shouldarrive shortly. That will freemyself and a suitable escortto ride with you back toBaen-Tar. After witnessingyour departure, the Hadrynforces have no reason toremainonTanerynlands.Theroyal forces will supervisetheir departure. Master Jarydand Captain Tyrun of theFalconGuardshallcommand

thateffort.”“Acceptable,”Kraylisssaid

shortly.“YuanKessligh?”“MyumaandIshallattend

Rathynal in Baen-Tar,” saidKessligh. “First, we shallreturn to Baerlyn. I amexpecting an importantvisitor.”SashashotKesslighalook.

Itwasthefirstshe'dheardofanyvisitor.Shedidn'tlikethesoundofthatatall.“I have your uma's word,

Yuan Kessligh,” Kraylissrumbledwarningly.“Iexpectherpresenceatmyhearing.”“And you shall have it,

Lord Krayliss,” Kesslighreplied. “She shall be atBaen-Tar before thebeginning of Rathynal. Itshallbeunderstoodbyallthatno hearing should beginbefore her arrival. On that,youhavemyword.”

SOFY STRODE QUICKLY downthe stone corridor to theking's chambers, her maidAnyse at her side. “Oh, Ihope I'm not late,” sheworried, brushing hastily ather hair. “Is my hairtangled?”“It's lovely, Highness,”

said Anyse, alwaysdiplomatic.“Just…here.”Shepulledabrushfromanapronpocket and Sofy stood stilllong enough for her to pullthe brush through quickly. Itcaughtseveraltimes.“Oh damn,” Sofy fretted,

“it's been doing that a lotlately,hasn'tit?”“Notat all,Highness.You

have the loveliest hair inBaen-Tar, but it's no wonderyou get tangles when you

neverslowdown.”“Slow down?” Sofy

exclaimed. “Alythia'swedding is less thanamonthaway, Rathynal will be hereshortly and every provinciallordandhisentouragewillbearriving, all demandingentertainments, decorativequarters—and gods forbidanyone should findthemselves bored or indisagreement with myprogram…ohhells,howdidI

end up with so manyresponsibilities?”Anysefoughtbackasmile.

“You volunteered,” she saidsuccinctly.Sofy gazed at her in

despair. “I did, didn't I?Heavens,I'msuchafool.”“Nonsense, you're simply

too kindhearted andintelligentforyourowngood,that'sall.”Sofybrushedher longhair

with a hand, then grasped

Anyseby thearmandpulledher on down the hall. “Iwonderwhatfatherwantsmefor.PerhapsI'llbeabletogetoutof it soon, then I cangetback to rehearsal…oh!CouldyourushbackandtellAlythiaI'll be late? She insists sheneedsmyhelptodecorateherwedding shawl…my fingerswillbe raw to thebone fromneedleworkattheendofthis,I'msureofit!”“I'll tell her, Highness,”

Anyse reassured her. “Andyour gown for the banquettonight?Shallyouleavesometimeforafitting?”“Oh drat!” Sofy said

crossly, drawing an amusedlooked from a tall RoyalGuardsman as he stood atattention. “I knew I'dforgotten something…look,could you just arrange thegreen-and-blue one with thecurlpattern?I'dthoughtsinceit is a foreign reception and

green and blue is not so farfromLenaypurpleandgreen,isit?”“Quite adequate,

Highness.”“Andstopcallingmethat!”“In the royal quarters,

certainlynot,Highness.”They stopped before the

grandtwindoorstotheking'schambers,panelledwhiteandinlaid with gold, unlike theplain dark wood of most ofthe Baen-Tar Palace. Sofy

took a deep breath,wondering at her nerves. Ithadbeendayssinceshe'dlastseen her father, or Koenyg,for thatmatter.Lately, they'dboth been spending muchtimeinclosedchamberswithadvisors and, some said, theholy fathers of the SaintAmbellion Temple. Therewas serious trouble in thenorth with that prize foolLordKrayliss, they said, andnow,aforeigndelegationhad

arrived.Shehadfartoomuchon her plate to be concernedabout the issues that troubledthe family's menfolk, butmeetingher fatherwasneveralightheartedaffair.Anyse adjusted the silver

Verenthane star against herprincess'schest.“There.YourHighness is looking forwardto M'Lady Sashandra's visitforRathynal?”Sofy grinned at her and

spun a pirouette. “Sasha's

coming to stay!” she sanghappily. “I hope she stays aweek!No, Ihopeshestaysayear! Maybe I'll…” and sheslappedahand tohermouth,horrified. “Oh no, where aremywits?I'mlatealready!”Shereadjustedherhairand

dressinahurry,withAnyse'smirthful help. Took anotherdeep breath, made a face atAnysewhentheolderwomancould barely refrain fromlaughingatheroverexciteable

charge, and pushed throughthewidewhitedoors.Thedoorsopenedonto the

reception, a grand,rectangular room of darkstone and decorative wallhangings. Upon the widecarpet stood many men,sipping from glasses whilstimmersed in conversation, asmusicians played the reedpipe and gitar in one corner.Sofy blinked in astonishment—manyofthemwereclearly

notLenaymen,fornoLenayman, Goeren-yai orVerenthane,wouldhavebeencaughtdeadintheoutfitstheywere wearing. Their bootswerehighandpolished, theirleggings tight and theirbeaded tunics were fittedtight about the torso, yetflaredpuffilyattheshoulders.Cuffs enveloped their handsin explosions of embroideredwhite lace, offsetting thepredominance of darker,

richercolours.Manymenhadcurlsintheirhairandthehintof perfume scented the air,stronger than Sofy's own.They stood in conversationwith various palace officialsandsomeofficers.Then she saw Koenyg,

excusing himself from oneconversation and striding toherside.Hiscalmexpressiondarkenedtoascowlwhennoone could see. “Where haveyou been?” whispered the

heir of Lenayin. Sofy's elderbrother was a broad, solidman, with none of the leanelegance of his foreignguests. His wide-sleevedjacket was made ofluxuriantly soft skins with aleather tunic beneath,displaying none of thedecoration of the foreigners.But then, it had never beenthe way of Lenay men topreenandprance likematingbirds.

“Whatdoyoumean‘wherehave I been’?”Sofy retorted.“HaveyouanyideahowbusyIam?”“Practisingceremoniesand

embroidering costumes doesnot constitute busy,”Koenyganswered,presentinghisrightarm forher to take.Sofydidso,quickly replacinga scowlof irritation with a friendlysmile for the guests.Koenygwalkedhertotheedgeofthecarpet and all the men

stoppedtalkingtolookather.Something in the foreigners’eyesmadeheruncomfortable.Not that their gaze was rude—they were far too culturedand dignified for that—but itwas…judgmental,somehow.Koenyg stopped and, to

Sofy'ssurprise,alltheforeignmen gave a round of politeapplause. Sofy smiled,because it was funny, and…well, every girl liked to bepraised, even with such

strange, foreigncustoms.Shecurtsied. And continued tofeel uncomfortable, whateverthe well-practised charm ofhersmile.“Sister,”saidKoenyg,with

polite formality, “pleaseallow me to introduce DukeStefhan of the Bacoshprovince of Larosa.”Indicating a man before herwho seemed to stand a littlestraighter than the others.Sofy curtsied, grateful of the

chance to lowerhereyesandsmother an abrupt surge ofdistaste. Larosa! She'd heardtales of the Larosa, some ofthemfromSasha.Larosawasthe most powerful of theBacoshprovincesandmostoftheBacoshspoketheLarosantongue,orwereinfluencedbytheir culture. Larosa had lednumerous wars against theSaalshen Bacosh over thepast two centuries and hadbeendefeatedeach time.She

had heard what the Larosahad done to captured full orhalf-caste serrin, with orwithout the excuse of war,andherblood rancoldat thethought.“DukeStefhan, here ismy

youngest sister, the PrincessSofy Lenayin.” Sofyextended her hand and theduke took it lightly.Heworemore rings than Sofy evenowned,letalonewore.“Utterlycharmed,”saidthe

duke, with a strange accentthat was itself rathercharming, and pressed herhandtohislips.Thedukehadagoateeanddarkhairincurlsdown to his shoulders. Ahandsomeman,Sofythought,in perhaps his mid-forties…withafunnynose,bulgingatthe tip. “YourHighness, youare evenmore beautiful thanallthetalesIhaveheard.Mycompanion Master Piet is askilledbard,Imusthavehim

write a song for you somencan sing of your beauty allthroughLarosaandallacrossthegreatBacoshlands.”“Indeed,”saidanotherman

—Master Piet, it seemed.“Yousetmeaneasytask,myDuke. Before such a beauty,words and song cannot butleaptomylips.”Against all her better

judgment,Sofy foundherselfblushing. “MyDuke,Master,youflatterme.”

The duke's eyes widened.“Flatter? No, no, YourHighness,youmustnotthinkso!” The accent, Sofythought,reallywasverynice.All the soundswere soft andall the hard Lenay vowelsseemed to flowtogetherwithvelvetease.“Ihavefound,inmy travels through yourbeautifulkingdom,thatallthemountain women are full ofvigour! Perhaps it is themountain air, or the

wonderfulwater.Butyou,myPrincess, you have a rosyglow to your cheek, and agleam in your eye, that isunsurpassed. Unsurpassed.And I would be honoured ifyouwould accompanyme tothedinnertonight.”Sofyblinkedandlookedat

Koenyg. The dinner…ofcourse. The banquet, rather,towelcomethearrivalofthisforeign delegation—theLarosa. They had come for

Rathynal, the great meetingofLenay clans.AndKoenygwanted her to be the duke'sescort?Well, thatwashardlysurprising—she was the onewho usually got stuck withthat kind of thing. The onewho actually liked talking tostrangeforeigners,oranyone,forthatmatter.“Would that interfere so

terribly with your busyplans?” Koenyg asked her.Men laughed to hear that

touch of dry irony—abrother's exasperation withfeminine obsessions.Especially amusing fromblunt,pragmaticKoenyg.“Of course not!” Sofy

retorted and favoured thedukewitha smile.Perhaps itwouldn't be so bad after all.The duke seemed nice andlowlanders certainly knewhow to outshine Lenay menwith charm. Besides which,therewere somanybeautiful

crafts, songs and paintingsshe'd seen from the Bacoshprovinces; surely the dukewas a culturedman and theycould talk of such things.Sofy loved the arts above allelse…andasforSasha's talesabouttheLarosa,well,Sashacertainly was prone toexaggeration. “I would bedelighted to accompany youto the banquet tonight, DukeStefhan,”shesaid.“SuchatreatismorethanI

deserve,” replied the dukewithasinceresmile.“Please,allow me to introduce themenofmycompanionship.”“Of course, that would be

lovely…” Before her brothercouldturnawayandleaveherwith the duke, she quicklywhispered. “Where is father?I'd thought he would behere?”“Father is meeting,”

Koenyg said vaguely. “He'llbeatthebanquet.”

“Meetingwithwho?”Sofywondered, as the Duke ledher first toMaster Piet, whoalso kissed her hand.Everyone seemed to be inmeetings, at themoment.Allthese comings and goingswere toomuch to keep trackof.SheonlyhopedthatSashawould come sooner ratherthan later. Sasha helpedthingstomakesense.And,asmuch as she enjoyed theflattery of theLarosamen, it

was a little annoying to betreated so condescendingly.Notonlylikeagirl,butlikeachild.JustletthemtryanddothattoSasha!

“My Lord?” The squirehovered at Usyn's elbow.“My Lord, please comeinside. You'll catch cold.Breakfast will be readysoon.”

Lord Usyn Telgar stoodatop a rocky vantage on theHelmarPass,andwatchedthefirstlightofdawnbreakovertheArynValley.Aday'sridenorth fromHalleryn.A day'shumiliation. He stood innothing but his loose pants,boots and undershirt,wrapped in a heavy cloak.His breath frosted before hislips, and the snowline ofthese first, lowmountains ofthe Marashyn Range began

just a short climb up thenearest, rocky slope. Yet hewelcomed the cold chill ofpain and, through sheerdetermination, willed hiskneesnottotremble.Itwasasmall victory, perhaps…butoflate,itwastheonlyvictoryFamilyTelgarhad.“Callmewhenbreakfastis

prepared,” Usyn told thesquire.“But my Lord…” Usyn

turnedacold,blue-eyedstare

ontheyoungman.Thesquirepaled and swallowed hard.“Yes, my Lord,” he bowedand hurried back toward thetents. From behind, andacross the lengthof thepass,thecampwasstirring.Horsessnorted in the cold and menchipped at ice puddles forcooking water, or choppeddeadwood from the stragglypines.Thedawnwassobeautiful.

A strip of golden light upon

the ruggedhorizon, fading toyellow, then through allshadesofblueandthenblackin thehighersky.Above, thebrighter stars yet shone,glorious in their finalmoments.YettheyoungLordofHadryn feltnopleasure inthecomingofsuchwondrouslight. The gods mocked himwith their grandeur. He hadfailed, and yet the sun stillrose,as ifallwererightwiththe world. The gods were

infallible.HisVerenthanestarfeltheavyuponhischest.Forthe first time in his life, hedoubtedhisrighttowearit.Thesquirereturnedashort

while later with news ofbreakfast and Usyn turnedback towardhis tent.Within,Udys Varan sat on a tentstool,handswrappedaboutahot mug of tea, and staredinto the central fire. Smokethickened the air, escapingthrough a small hole above

thecentrepole.Severalotherlordsalsosat,drinkingteaoreatingthefirststripsofbaconthat the servant provided.Usyntookhisplace,receivedhis plate from the squirewithoutaword,andbrooded.Fromacross the fire,Udys

Varan looked up. His hairgleamedwhiteinthefirelight,his eyes cold.Usyn's father'swisest companion andconfidant in matters of warand power. And his most

powerfulrival.“Andwhatareyour plans this fine, coldmorning,youngTelgar?”There was a note of dark

sarcasm to the oldcampaigner'svoice.Anoteofaccusation. Of disrespect.Usyn struggled to keep acheck on the temper thatseethed in his gut. “I amGreat Lord, Lord Udys,” hesaid coldly. “My age is noneofyourconcern.”“Yetyoufailtoanswerthe

question,” Udys replied.“Haveyouaplan?Ordoyouintend to attend the king'sgreat Rathynal as thoughnothing has happened, like awhipped dog with its tailbetweenitslegs?”“It's notmy fault your son

was killed,” Usyn bit out. “Irecall it was your idea tochallenge the Cronenverdtbitchinthefirstplace.”“My son,” Udys said with

blazing eyes and hardening

tone, “is but a sign of ourpredicament! I grieve notonlyformyson,youngLordof Hadryn, I grieve forHadrynitself!”“It's not my fault!” Usyn

shouted,risingfromhisstool.“Not one of you predictedthatLordKraylisswouldcasthimself upon the king'smercy, you all swore to methat he would fight to thedeath!”“It is our fault!” Udys

replied, also rising. “Weshould have known betterthantoentrustapuplikeyouto go charging into Taneryntoavengeyourfather…”“Enough!” shouted Yuan

Heryd,risingaswell.Hewasa big, wide-faced man. Lordof the northern fortress townof Wayn, directly on theCherrovan border. “Thisbickering shall achievenothing.MyLord, please sit.YuanUdys,please.Youhave

lost your son, yetLordUsynhas losthis father.Anymorearguing and we shall startkilling ourselves, and thatshall onlymake our enemieslaughalltheharder!”Varan nodded, coolly

enough, and reclaimed hisseat. Gestured for Usyn toretake his, with no smallirony. Usyn stood for amoment, trembling. Histemper seethed, desiringescape, yet no convenient

targetpresenteditself.FamilyVaran were one of Hadryn'soldest and wealthiest. TheyhadmanyclaimstotheGreatLordshipofHadrynandtherehad been blood feuds in thepast between Telgars andVarans…all buried now,within the common unity ofthe Verenthane brotherhood.Usynwasyoung,yetheknewthat Udys Varan had manysupporters amongst the otherHadryn nobles. Given his

chance,Udyswouldmakehismove and claim HadrynGreatLordshipforhimself.Usyn took a deep, shaking

breath. Then he sat, fightingto keep his breathing even.Thiswasintolerable.Neverinall his life had he felt sotrapped, so humiliated, so…small.HewasGreat Lord ofHadryn. Long had hedreamedofthemomentwhenhisfather'stitlewouldbehis.But not like this. Not like

this.Breakfast was eaten in

merciful silence.Thecomingsunlightcolouredthewallsofthe tent increasingly bright.From about the camp, thesounds of activity increased.Finally,LordUdysspoke.“Our predicament is not

unique,” he said, wiping thelastgreasefromhisplatewithapieceofbread.“Foraslongas the descendants of theUdalyn continue to raise the

flag across the border inTaneryn, these troubles willcontinue. They shall troubleyour sons, too, my Lord,”with a meaningful glance atUsyn, “and most likely ourgrandsons and great-grandsons as well. TheUdalyn are their inspiration,and our never-ending shame.TheUdalynhavesurvivedusfor a century, hidden in theirvalley. We claim to be thegreatest of the northern

powers and yet we havefailed to destroy them. ThatfailureinvitesotherstoattackusintheUdalyn'sname.”“This was our best

chance,” Yuan Heryd saidsombrely. “The death of ourlord gave us rights under thecrownlaw.It isthefirsttimewehavehadthechancetogetthat bastard Krayliss's headon a pike. Now, he's runcowering to the king forprotection.” He shrugged,

always pragmatic. YuanHeryd had that reputation.“We tried. At least he maylosesomecredibilityamongsthis own people. He isbelittled.Wehaveachievedatleast that much…and whoknows? The king's law mayseehisheadonapikeyet.”“The satisfaction shall not

bequitethesame,”Usynsaidicily.Itwasdifficulttospeakof such things so calmly asYuan Heryd. But his father

had respected the man. Hewould try, whatever theeffort. “Sometimes I wonderwhether our support for thecrown law is worth all thetroubleitgivesus.”“Young Lord,” said Yuan

Varan,leaningforwardonhisstool, with meaning,“disabuse yourself of suchnotions. There are only threeprovinces of Lenayin thatfollow the true, chosen pathof Verenthane. The other

eight are weak; theirVerenthanenobility lacks thecourage to whip their localpagans into shape. In thoseeight, the pagans remain amajority. We cannot controlthemonourown.Wecontrolthemthroughtheking;fortheking,thoughflawed,isatrueVerenthane. Such are theunpleasant compromises ofpower, young Lord. Yourfatherknewitandyoushouldlearnitalso.”

“That wonderful king,”Usyn said sarcastically, “hasspent the better part of mylife gallivanting with pagansand serrin demons fromSaalshen.”“The better part of your

life,yes,”agreedUdys.“Youhave barely nineteensummers, my Lord. Aneyeblink in the passage ofpower. For a moment, thekingfavouredtheserrin.ThatwasthedoingofCronenverdt

—that man has caused moredamage to Lenayin than anyother in our history. Heclaimed credit for greatvictories against Markield,and the king, believing inomens,foolishlybelievedthattheNasi-Kethandtheirserrinpuppet-masters wereresponsible.“But now, Cronenverdt's

influence is fading. He triedtomould the king's heir intohis own image, but failed.

The second heir, gods bepraised, isa trueVerenthane,and the north holds hisfavour. His wife—your dearsisterWyna,myLord—istheLenay queen-in-waiting andhas already borne us aHadryn heir to theVerenthane throne. The kingnow reads new omens, mostespecially in the birth of hisheir's son, and favours thenorthoncemore.“Soon, thewar shall come

and we shall march to theBacosh to reclaim the holylandsfromtheserrindemons.The Verenthane gods shallbecome strong as they haveneverbeenstrongbefore,andwith theirstrength,oursshallincrease.Weshall strengthenties with our lowlandscousinsintheLarosaandthefreeBacosh, for they are theones who truly know how apaganshouldbetreated.Thatshallputsomebackbone into

our southern Verenthanes, atlast.“Soon, young Lord, there

shallbenonebutVerenthanesas far as the eye can see andthe serrin demons shall bewiped from the earth. But ittakes patience, my Lord. Imay not live to see that day.Evenyoumaynot.Butitwillcome, and our everlastingglory shall be all the greaterforourpart.”“You speak fine words,

YuanUdys,”saidUsyn.“Butour concerns are moreimmediate. You tell me thatthe Taneryn problem willremain for generations, but Icannot now assault TanerynwithLordKrayliss under theking's protection, for theking's lawforbids it!What isthe central rule from Baen-Tartrulyworthtousifitdoesnot allow us to deal firmlywith that which threatensus?”

“My Lord,” said Varan,shaking his head withimpatience, “you did notlisten. Taneryn is littleenough problem. They arepoor, and weak, and led byfools. They trade little, growpoor crops and gain little inwealthandpower.“The true problem, my

Lord,aretheUdalyn.Aslongasweallowthemtoresistus,we invite all our enemies toattack us.And our chance to

finally end this problem isnow.”Usyn stared at him.About

the campfire, all men did.Usyn frowned. “But theking's law prevents us fromattackingtheUdalynjustasitprevents us from attackingtheTanerynwithoutjust…”“No!” said Udys,

triumphantly. “The crownlaw was written by KingSorosahundredyearsago.Itrecognised the boundaries

between provinces asimmutable,andalord'srightswithin those boundaries assacrosanct. The king'shistorical protection of theUdalyn Valley is anunderstanding, my Lord, notalaw.Averbalunderstandingbetween King Chayden,Soros'sson,andthepagans.Itis nowhere in the writings,and had I a copy of thedocument here before me, Icouldshowyou.”

“But…but…” Usyn rolledhis eyes in exasperation.“What does it matter?Previous lords of HadrynhavetriedtoendtheUdalyn,but each time the kingstopped them! The paganshavespieswithinourbordersand the Udalyn alwayssummonhelp!Weshallhaveyet another royal armydescending upon our headsbefore we can breach theUdalyn's wall. And if they

trap uswithin the valley,wearefinished!”“My Lord,” said Udys,

very intently. His eyes drewthem all in, conspiratorially.“Some of us, from all threenorthernprovinces,havebeenin contact with PrinceKoenyg. He wishes for theBacosh war most strongly.Yet he knows that the warshall be unpopular amongstthe pagans.He needs us,myLord,andthekingalsoneeds

us. There shall be no warwithout our support or elsethe holy lands in the Bacoshshall remain occupied by theserrindemonsandthereshallbe no allegiance with thegreat power of a unitedVerenthaneBacosh.“Prince Koenyg is a

strategist and holds hisfather's favour. He needs usso much, he has made itknownthathewillnotstopusfrom any pursuit not

explicitly forbidden by theking'swrittenlaw.”Therewasasilencewithin

thetent.Usynfelthopeflare,hot and bright. A hope forsuccess.Ahopeforglory.FortherisetotheGreatLordshipofHadrynthathehadalwaysdreamed of. A chance to beworthy of his great, departedfather.Udyssawthelookuponhis

lord's face and gave a tight,hard smile. He knew. “My

Lord,”hesaidquietly,“Iprayof you. Let us remove thisweepingsorefromthehonourofHadrynonceandforall.”

Sasha sat on her chair in theSteltsynStar,amugofaleinher hand, and gazed at theblazing coals of the centralfirepit. About her, themerriment of mealtimecontinued with music and

laughter. She had recited hertellingoftheridetoHalleryn,which had been met withmuch applause and shouts ofapproval from a roomcrowded full of long-haired,tattooed and ringed Goeren-yaimen.Butnow,whiletheycaroused, she only felt likesitting near the glowingwarmth of the fire, andwatchingtherippleofredandorange across the surface ofcoals.

Soon, Teriyan dragged achairandsatbesideher,witha head toss to keep his longred hair clear of the chairback. “So Kessligh's got avisitor?” he said. His tonesuggested he'd had severalales already…but Teriyanwas one man Sasha knewcouldholdhisdrink.She nodded, taking an

absent sip. It was her first,and only, ale of the night.Kessligh didn't like her

drinking the stuff at all, butshe liked to be sociable…morethanshelikedthetaste,intruth.“Hisname'sAiden,”Sasha

replied, somewhat sourly.“He rode all the way fromPetrodor, just to talk toKessligh.”“About what, do you

know?”Sasha shrugged. “Nasi-

Kethbusiness, Iguess. Iwasbooted out of the house

beforeIcouldhear.”“Couldyoubealittlemore

enthusiastic?” Teriyansuggested,takinganotherpullathisale.“You'llbeheadingtoRathynalsoon,you'llgettosee your Sofy again.” Sashasmiled. “Aha, I thought thatwould do it. Cheer up, kid,youlooklikeLyniedidwhenherpetratdied.”“Lyniehadapetrat?”“She did until the dog ate

it. She nearly killed the poor

mutt,neverseenaboarhoundsofrightened.”Sashagrinned,well able to imagine that.“Butthensheteamedupwithyou and your horses, hasn'tlookedataratsince.”“I think it's a Goeren-yai

thing,” said Sasha. From theother side of the room, therecame a roar of triumph—someofthemenwereplayinga game with knives and athrowing board. Anothernight, andanothermood, she

mighthavejoinedthem.Spirits,she'dloveditwhen

she'd first come to Baerlyn.There were animals here.Kessligh had brought sixclassy mares with him, giftsfrom the king's stables, andher new life meant beingaround them all day. Everymorning when she'd awokenwithinthetimberwallsofhernew home, the horses werewaiting for her. And therewere thedogs, the twocows,

birds in the trees,deer in thewoods, the occasional bear,big and small wildcats, andwolveshowlingatthemoon.Well, she'd not loved it

entirely at first.Kesslighhadbeenahardtaskmaster.Therewerenomoreservantspryinginto her life, which waswonderful…but also, therehadbeennoone tomakeherbed, prepare her meals, setthe fire, fetch water, chopwood and all the other small

tasksthattookherawayfromher precious horses andimportantsvaalverdwork.There'd also been

Kessligh's training. She'dthought it would be fun, atfirst, for she'd loved trainingon her own orwithKesslighandKrystoffintheprivacyofthe empty stables in Baen-Tar. But Kessligh's newroutines were far moreadvanced than the littleexercises he'd suggested in

Baen-Tar. These includedpainful stretches everymorning and evening, longruns up the hill behind theranch, and endless, tedioussessions of repeating thesame, basic swing over andoverandoveragain.Soon enough, the little

loud-mouth brat princess hadbegun whining andcomplainingaboutherachingshoulders,herblisteredhandsand the sheer,mind-numbing

boredomofnotgetting todoany real fighting. And she'dbeen tired all the time, andsometimesill,andwinterhadbeen well on its way.Kessligh had explained, timeafter time, the necessity oflearning the svaalverd's mostbasicformsuntiltheybecameas second-nature as walkingand breathing. But hertantrums had grown worse,especially in the freezingdownpoursandhowlinggales

ofautumn.After one particularly

hysterical tantrum, Kesslighhad dragged her from herroom where she'd flungherselfonherbed,andsatherdown before the fireplace.He'd explained to her, in avery serious way, that if sheno longer wished to be hisuma,shecouldalwaysreturnto Baen-Tar and become aproper princess again. She'dwear dresses, learn manners

and etiquette, and practiseneedlework instead ofsvaalverd.There'dbenomorepain, no more exercises andstretches, no more bruises,strains and blisters. Butthere'd also be no morehorses, no more wide openspaces,nomorehidingontheforestledgealongthehillsideto spy on the wolfcubsplaying before their den. Nomorespearfishinginthelittlestream at the bottom of the

hill, or swimming in thewaterhole beneath the littlefalls on a warm summer'sday. No more crackling logfires in the evenings, and thecabin filled with the sweetsmell of burning old pine, abook of serrin poetry on herlap as she slowly unravelledthe beautiful triple andquadruple meanings of theSaalsitongue.Thathadbeenherlastgreat

tantrum. Oh, she'd had more

minor ones since—far toomany to count, in fact. Butshe'd stretched, and run, anddone push-ups and sit-upsuntil her arms, legs andstomach ached all over, andshe would stagger about thestableslikeacripple.Then, one day in

midwinter, with the snowspiledhighon thegroundandthe trees all gleaming withicicles, Kessligh had takenher down to Baerlyn for a

special occasion. It had beenMidwinter's Day, her veryfirst in Baerlyn. The localshadgatheredforagreatfeastoutdoors, as the weather hadbeen chilled but fine. Therehad been fires for warmth,and music, dancing andlaughter.Everyonewasthere,men, women and children,and Sasha had been amazedto see that they paid nogreater respect or homage tothe village councilmen than

theydidtoapoorpigfarmer,or to Denys the simpleton,who spoke funny, andlaughed far too much, butwasneverteasedforit.Somehad even dared jokes atKessligh's expense—they'donlygottenasmilefromhim,but a smilewasasgoodasabelly laugh from KesslighCronenverdt.There'd followed contests

of swordwork, includinglimited-contact contests for

the children. Sasha hadswung her child's stanchthrough those same oldboring, predictable strokesKessligh had spent so muchtime drilling her on…and toher amazement, the boyscontestingherwouldmeetnofirm contact with theirwoodenblades,andlosetheirbalance, or expose theirdefences, or fall flat on theirbacksides as their footingentangled. Not always, of

course—often it hadn'tworked, and she'd get abelting for her faults. But ifshe did it just right, andconcentrated as hard as shecould…well, the boys hadprotested, fumed and sulked,but they could not deny herability. Some of them hadsimply shown respect,including some of the oldermen who'd ruffled her hairandtoldhershewasgood.Ithad given her a feeling she'd

never known she'd craved sobadly until that moment.Pride, and belonging. In thatmoment, it had truly dawnedonherthatshecouldnevergoback to the life she'd oncehad. She was no longer aprincessofLenayin.ShewasSashandra Lenayin, uma toKessligh Cronenverdt, of theNasi-Keth.She'd never complained of

Kessligh'strainingtechniquessince. Slowly the exercises

had become less painful, theruns less exhausting, and theblisters had grown over withhard callouses. Lynette hadbecome a permanent featureat the stables, and thenAndreyis. She'd begun toknowthetownsfolkandtheirchildren better. She had hadfights and made friends, hadplayed seek and chase alongthe dusty lanes and beenscolded by the women forriding one horse or another

too fast through the town.She'dbeenborn inBaen-Tar,in the great royal palace ofLenayin, but this, Baerlyn,villageofValhananprovince,washerhome.Jaegar dragged a chair

across to sit opposite, hisbacktothefireandaplateofroastmeatandvegetable raalonhislap.“Greetingsall,”hesaid,“sorryImissedthetale.Upwyld filled me in. Mostimpressive.”

“And where were you?”Teriyanchallengedhisvillageheadman and good friend.“When our girlwas standingon the table, pouring out herlatest great glory towemeremortals?”“Rony has a light fever,”

Jaegar explained, utterlyunruffled, taking a bigmouthful. “Took her to seeCranyk. He gave her somefoul-smelling serrin stuff.Rony wouldn't eat it. From

there, it became a grandbattle.”SashaandTeriyangrinned.

Rony was Jaegar's youngestdaughter,nowfouryearsold.Jaegarhadfourgirls,noboys,andcontemptforanyonewhothought that made himunlucky.“Whowon?”Sashaasked.“Well I'd like to claim a

great victory over the forcesofdarkness,”Jaegaradmitted,takinghis cup from the floor

to wash down a mouthful,“but in truth, itwas a brutal,bloodydraw.Ronysufferedaspanking,butSharynnowhasto devise a way to bake aflatbreadwith thedamnstuffinside it, so Rony can eat itwithoutnoticingthetaste.”“Sweet spirits,” Teriyan

groaned, a hand to his facewith the agonised expressionofafatherwhosympathised.“The most devious and

stubborn of adversaries, little

girls,”Sashasaidknowingly.Jaegar nodded, eating

hungrily.“Theveryworst.”

Sasharodeback to thehousewith a lit torch in one hand.Chersey did not mind theflame, nor the ghostlyshadows that it cast acrosstrailandtrees.Sasharodeatafastcanter,partlybecausethedistance was short and

Chersey knew the road well,and partly because she'dlearned to be cautious ofpossible ambush, even heresoclosetotown.Onedidnotbecome uma to Kessligh ofthe Nasi-Keth withoutlearningtobecareful.She was greeted upon the

open lower slope by araucousbarkingofdogsfromtheverandah.Lightglowedinthehouse'swindows, spillingacross the verandah where it

raised on stilts above thegentleslope.Sheroundedthehuge vertyn tree, and thechicken run and widevegetable garden that itsheltered, and continuedupslope to the stables. Onceinherstall,shegaveCherseya rub in case of sweat thatmight chill,made certain shehad feed and drink for thenight,andfastened theheavyblanketoverthemare'sbroadbackandaboutthesides.

Then she checked on eachof the sixteen long faces thatpeered over their respectivestall doors at her, having nodoubt of Kessligh, AndreyisandLynette'scare,butalwayswishing to check for herself.Her horses were her life, atleast as much as herswordwork. She fussed overthem for awhileby the lightof an oil lamp, more for thepleasure of their companythan because they required

the attention. Then shemadeherwaydown the long, darkslope toward thedimlightofthehouseahead,withnothingtoguideherstepsinthepitch,silentblacknessthanmemoryofthegrassyground.Kaif and Keef greeted her

on the rear verandah, takingtime from crunching a hugebone to sniff at her withwagging, shaggy tails. Theopenkitchenwaswarm,withevidence of a recently

prepared meal on the bench.Beyond the partition,Kessligh sat with his Nasi-Kethguest,Aiden,beforetheopen fire of the main room,sippingtea.“Evening!” said Aiden

brightly,risingfromhischair.“Didyouhaveagoodtime?”Hehadaround,cheerfulfaceand a flatmop of black hair.His build seemed verging onfat, yet there was a poise tohim, and a balance, that

perhaps only a fellowswordsmanwouldnotice.“A wonderful time, thank

you,”saidSasha,kneelingbythefiretowarmthekettleonthe stand above the flames.“Please sit, we Lenays aren'tmuchonformality.”Aiden sat, with a beaming

smile. His accent was verybroad and his manners veryTorovan,Sashathought.“I was telling Kessligh,”

said Aiden, as Sasha walked

to close the main roomshuttersthatKesslighhadleftopentogivehersomelighttoride home to, “that inPetrodor, there are few innswithwomen.Petrodorisveryconservativeplace,yes?VeryVerenthane. No womendrinking, no womendancing…”Sasha finished the second

shutter's latch, and noted theseveral large books lyingbesideKessligh'scomfortable

chair. Serrin books, sherecognised them. ShewonderedwhatheandAidenhad been discussing allevening.“Very few women here

either,” Sasha replied,standing before the fire.Kessligh's expressionremained distant, barelylistening. Something about itmade her uncomfortable.“Mostlythewomenarestuckat home, cooking and caring

for the children. I have toadmit, I don't knowmany ofthemhalfaswellasIshould.And have precious little todiscusswith themwhen I dogetachancetotalk.Ourlivesare just so different.At leastwith the men, I can talkhorsesandswordwork.”“Very few women in the

Nasi-Kethtoo,”Aidenadded,watching her curiously.“Yuan Kessligh is greatvisionary. No Petrodor

womenachieveyoursuccess.Notallserrinteachingstakensoseriouslybyhumans,yes?”Sasha snorted. “He's a

great visionary?” Half-serious, half-joking. “Whataboutme?Ididit,nothim.”Aiden laughed. “True,

true,” he conceded,cheerfully.“Besides,howmuchvision

does it take to tell thedifference between a womanand a lumpof coal?”With a

sidewaysglanceatKessligh.Aiden shrugged, broadly.

“InPetrodor,Ithinkmaybealot,”hesaid.Kessligh usually rose to

that bait. Tonight, he barelynoticed.Sashalookedathim,uneasily. “So what did youtwospendalleveningtalkingabout?”Aiden's good cheer faded.

He looked at Kessligh,waiting for him to speak.Sasha had often wondered

what Kessligh was to thoseNasi-Keth in Petrodor withwhomhecorresponded.Whatwas he to Aiden? A leader?An inspiration? A “greatvisionary”?Hisachievementsin Lenayin had certainlymadehimasignificantfigurefor Nasi-Keth everywhere.Buthe'dbeengone for thirtyyears, and lived so faraway…“Aiden brings news from

Petrodor,” Kessligh said.

“Saalshen's representativethere, Rhillian, is makingwaves. I've spoken to you ofherbefore.”Sasha frowned. “I

remember. Isn't sheSaalshen's second incommandinPetrodor?”“Serrin concepts of rank

are not easily translated,”Kesslighreplied.“Thereisnorank, only ra'shi. Respect.One earns ra'shi throughdeeds and experience, so it's

not always easy to tellwho'struly in charge. Rhillian'sra'shi grows powerful acrossall Saalshen, not justPetrodor.”The kettle began to boil.

Sasha knelt and put twoteaspoons of ground tealeavesintotheteapotwhereitsat beside the fireplace. “Sowhat did Rhillian do?” sheasked, taking the teacloth sothatthekettle'shandledidnotburnherfingers,andpouring.

“She's been agitating forSaalshen to get tough, hasn'tshe?”Kessligh looked at Aiden,

inviting him to speak. “Theholy brotherhood are sayingshe attacked the archbishopand tried to steal theShereldinStar,”saidAiden.Sasha stared at him. “The

ArchbishopofPetrodor?”sheasked.Aiden nodded. “It is

nonsense of course—if she

attacked the archbishop, hewould be dead. Everyoneknows this, yet no one likesto say it. No one will admitthetruepowerofSaalsheninPetrodor, and that no one issafe from the serrin, if theserrin don't want you safe,yes?”“But…theShereldinStar?”

Sasha remembered the kettlein her hand, and put it downbefore the fireplace. “Isn'tthatthatstupidartefactallthe

Verenthanesraveabout?”“The holiest relic of

Verenthanes,” Aiden saidsolemnly.AndSasharealisedin a flash that Aiden, likemost of the Petrodor Nasi-Keth, was most likelyVerenthane. She'd probablyoffended him, she thought,and chided herself for notmindinghertongue.Kesslighhadrenouncedallotherfaithsin the pursuit of serrinteachings. But for most

lowlanders, faith was not soeasily cast aside. “I havespoken with serrin, they sayRhilliandidnotwantthestar.I think they tell truth, here.WethinkRhillianonlymeanstowarnthearchbishop.Somethingstheserrinwillnottakelyingdown.”“And what was the

archbishop doing with theShereldin Star? Isn't that…”and she paused, andsomething cold and

worrisome occurred to her.“Isn'tthatinthepossessionoftheLarosa?”Again, Aiden nodded,

sombrely. “It was. TheLarosa have had many warsagainst the Saalshen Bacosh.They want the Verenthaneholylandsback.Theywanttounite the Bacosh under asingle king and throw theserrin out. They swore, twocenturies ago, that theShereldinStarwouldoneday

bereturnedtotheholylands,but only when the serrin aregone.“The Larosa give the

archbishopthestarsothatallTorovan will unite beneathhim and fight with theLarosa.”“And now the Larosa are

here!” Sasha exclaimed. Herheartthumpedunpleasantlyinher chest. “Someone at theinn said a large group justarrivedinBaen-Tar!”

“The last piece in thepuzzle,”Kesslighsaidtiredly.“The armies of the SaalshenBacosh are formidable. Allthe remaining Bacoshprovinces are uniting underthe Larosa. But it's notenough. A Torovan army isuseful for numbers, butTorovans have never beennoted fighters. What theLarosa want from thearchbishop is the loyalty ofthePetrodor families, and all

their money. Petrodor mightnot be much in a fight, buttheycanpayforahugearmy,Sasha, of far more than justTorovans. The archbishopwillconvincethemtopay,forthesakeoftheirsouls.“Still, even Torovan and

Larosan armies together areinsufficient. They needLenayin.Andbythelooksofthings, they're going to getLenayin.”“And I've just been sitting

in a large room filled withGoeren-yai warriors whohave always insisted thatthey'llnever fightagainst theserrin!” Sasha replied. “Noteven should the kingcommandit!”Shecouldfeelthepiecesof

the puzzle clicking together.Suddenly, it was all makingsense…and what she sawfrightened her. All becausesome stupid Verenthanescouldn't stand the serrin

livingonwhathadoncebeenhuman lands. Now, theirintolerance threatenedLenayin with civil uprisinganddisaster.“Now you see the scale of

it,” said Kessligh, with tiredexasperation. “Now you seewhat I'vebeen tellingyouallthese years. These foreignmatters, these things youdismiss as unimportant, canrise up and destroy yourworld, Sasha. It is all

connected. Your father nowseeks to align Lenayin withwhatheseesasthedestinyoftheVerenthanes. Thatmeanssupportingtheirwar.”“Wellthenwehavetostop

him!” Sasha exclaimed.“You…you still haveinfluenceleftwithfather,youwere his Commander ofArmiesforeighteenyears,forheavens’sake!Helistenedtoyou!ThisRathynal,wemustride to Baen-Tar and

convince him not to join theLarosa!”“I'm not riding to Baen-

Tar,” said Kessligh. “I'll beriding to Petrodor.” Sashasimply stared at him. Shecouldnotthinkofanythingtosay.“Thegamehaschanged,Sasha.Lenayinwillmarch towar,itcan'tbestopped.Whatcan be saved is the Nasi-Keth.Aidenbringsnews thatthe factions have split. Somefavour Rhillian; others

disagree and seek a pathseparate from Rhillian'sinfluence.“Petrodor is the key to

stopping this war, Sasha.Without Petrodor's wealth,thewarwillnothappen.Andthe Nasi-Keth are the key toPetrodor—united, they arethe only power in Petrodorcapable of restraining thefamilies. Icannotallowthemtobecomedivided.Theyneedme now. I cannot wait, or

thingswillbeworse.”Sasha continued staring.

Shefeltasiftheverygroundhad disappeared from underher. Her ears could notbelieve what they werehearing. “And what aboutLenayin?” she breathed,incredulously. “Do all yourloyalties to Lenayin just…disappear?”Kessligh frowned, his jaw

tightening. “I have giventhirty years of my life to

Lenayin.Isworeallegiancetoyour father, yet I neverclaimed to be anything otherthanwhatIam—Nasi-Keth.Icannotignorethatcallinganymore than your father canignore the callings of theVerenthaneholyfathers fromPetrodor.AndIwon't.”Tears sprang to Sasha's

eyes.KesslighwasLenay.Offoreignorigin,surely…but inmanyways, hewas Lenayin.The greatest Lenay warrior.

And she, his uma. Now, hewascastingitallaside,asonemightthrowasideapeeloncethe fruit was eaten. Shecouldn'tbelieveit.Kesslighsatforwardonhis

chair, his expression intense.“Sasha,think!”hedemanded.“Of all the serrin teachingsI'vetoldyou,ofallthethingsyou know! Broaden yourvision, Sasha! The importantthing is to stop this damnedwarfromhappening!Icando

that!InPetrodor!”“If civil war takes

Lenayin,” Sasha said withdifficulty, “countless liveswill be lost. Towns likeBaerlyn will be destroyed,perhapsBaerlynitself,andallits people killed. I knowenough Lenay history toknow what our civil warslook like. You would justabandonthemtothisfate?”“Damn fool, you're not

listeningtome…”

“It'll be too late!” Sashayelled at him, comingabruptly toher feet. “Yougoofftoplayyourpowergamesin the alleys of Petrodor…there's trouble brewing herenow! You may save theserrin, and youmay save theNasi-Keth, but Lenayin shallbeashes!Whatwereyourlastthirty years here for, if youjust run away when Lenayinneeds you most? What wereyour last twelve years with

mefor?”“You are my uma,”

Kessligh said simply. Thefirelightcasthis features intorumpled,hard-edgedshadow,an animation they couldnever acquire on their own.“Youmust comewithme toPetrodor.”Sasha felt something snap.

This betrayal was too much.She could have struck him.“Damned if I will!” sheyelled. “I promised Krayliss

I'dbeatRathynal,andIwon'tgive him free rein in Baen-Tar to cause trouble withoutme!YougotoPetrodor!Yougo there, and you rot there,withyourbelovedNasi-Keth!Me,I'mLenay,andI'llneverabandonmypeople!Never!”

“BUT DARYD!” RYSHACOMPLAINED. “Mama saidwe'renotallowedbeyondthetrees!”Daryd ignored her, aswas

an elder brother's right, hiseyes searching through theforest. Essey's breath plumedin white clouds, brilliant in

the golden sunshine that fellthroughthetreetops.Sunlightgleamed on wet trunks andundergrowth, low and brightin the early morning. To theright through the trees rosethe Aralya Range—Hadrynlands,andabarrierbeforethelands of Valhanan. Esseyfoundherwayeasilyenough,nimble hooves pickingthroughthebracken.“Daryd!” Rysha protested

from her seat at his back.

“We'llgetintrouble!”“We'vepickedallthegood

stuff from the treeline,”Daryd replied. “There'll bemore growing along theriver.”“Butwe'llgetlost!”“How can we get lost?”

Daryd asked in exasperation.“The river's just over on theleft,themountainsareontheright, how can anyone getlost?”He'd been feeling very

confident of late, ever sincehe'd bested Salyl Wyden inthe Hemys Festival contest.Salyl Wyden had twelvesummersandwasabully.He,Daryd,hadonlytensummers,but he was good with astanch.ThebesthisageinallUdalyn, his father claimed,with obvious pride. It madeDaryd's chest swell to thinkon it. Perhaps at the Festivalof Rass, he could prove it.TheUdalynValleywaslong,

and many families livedthere. Rass was a biggerfestival than Hemys and allthe valley would attend.Then, surely, he could provehisfather'sclaims.Untilthen,hewould settle for being thebest his age in the town ofYmoth beyond the valleymouth. Better than the bullySalylWyden,anyhow.“But Daryd,” Rysha

resumed after a thinkingpause.Daryd rolled his eyes.

“TheHadryn live thisway. Idon't want to meet anyHadryn.”“Look Rysha, I told you.

Up ahead is LakeTullamayne. LakeTullamayne lies right upagainst the Aralya Range.There's no way around it onthis side. We have scoutstherewhospyon theHadrynin case they come across thefieldsontheothersideoftheriver. They'd have told us if

there were Hadryn here, andtherearen't.Okay?”Hehadhishuntingknifeat

his side and, for a ten-year-oldboy,thatwasasgoodasashort sword. Essey was hisfather'shorse,butnowthathewas ten, Daryd's fatherallowedhim to takeheroverthe southern and easternfields,lookingforthevariousmushrooms and herbs hismotherandauntsusedintheircookingandmedicines.There

were farmers all across thefieldswhowouldkeepaneyeon a boy on his horse, so itwas not really as dangerousas Daryd liked to imagine.Butridingnowintotheforesttoward the lake that markedthe eastern-most boundary ofUdalyn lands, he couldalmostimaginehimselfafull-fledged warrior, ridingproudly upon his steed, hisbraidsflowingdownhisbackand his face bearing the ink-

marksofUdalynmanhood.“Oh look!” said Rysha

then, removing one handfrom his sides to point.“Butter flowers! Look howbig they are…Daryd, I wanttopicksome, thenIcan takethemhometoMama!”“We're looking for much

more important stuff thanbutter flowers,” Daryd toldher sternly. If only Mamahadn't insisted that he takeRyshawithhimthismorning!

He could hardly feel like atrue Udalyn warrior with hisseven-year-old sister clingingto the back of his saddle,complainingalltheway.“I want to pick some

flowers!” Rysha insisted,indignantly. “If you're goingto go into the forest, I'mgoing to pick some flowers!Or I'll tell Papa where youwent!”Daryd scowled. “You're

suchapain,Rysha.”

“You'reapain!”The forest and the

undergrowth became thicker,so Daryd steered toward theriver.Soonenough, thegreatYumynis appeared throughthe trees, wide and brokenwithrocks,itslevellowinthelatesummer.Daryd rode along the

grassy verge above theriverbank. Below, whereerosion bit into the earth, agravelly, rocky bank ran

perhaps fifteen strides untilthewater'sedge.Darydmadethespiritsigntohisforeheadand, behind him, Rysha didthe same. The Yumynis wasthelifebloodoftheUdalyn.Ithad sustained them in theCatastrophe,acenturybefore,whentheHadrynhadtriedtokill them all, and nearlysucceeded. It had sustainedthem in the century since,locked in their valley,surrounded by the vilest of

enemies.Anditwouldsustainthem in the future, as theUdalyn rebuilt their numbersand their weapons, workingfor thedaywhenall thathadbeen taken from themwouldbe theirs once more. Thegreat spirit of the YumynishadgivenbirthtotheUdalyncountless centuries before,andnowitkeptthemaliveinalltheirstruggles.SoonDarydfoundagrassy

meadow and dismounted.

While Essey grazed happilyupon the grass, her tailswishing, Daryd and Ryshalooked for herbs andmushrooms. Which was notsuch an unmanly thing, heassured himself as he peeredbeneathalarge,mossylogforflashesof telltalecolour.Thewise ones of Saalshen lovedherbsandmushroomsalso, itwas told, and made magicalpotions from them.Thewiseones had not visited the

UdalynsincetheCatastrophe,butmanystoriesweretoldofthemstill.And theirdisciple,Yuan Kessligh Cronenverdt,hadcometothevalley,whenhewasliberatingallthenorthfrom the Cherrovan warlordMarkield—Daryd'sgrandfatherhad toldhimthatstory many, many times.Kessligh Cronenverdt foughtjustlikethewiseones,andhewasthegreatestwarriorinallLenayin. He'd even trained

one of the princesses ofLenayin to fight like themtoo,itwassaid.Soon, Daryd's hessian bag

held a small weight of herbsand fungi. Absorbed in hissearching, he suddenlyrealised thathedidnotknowwhere Rysha was. He wasabout to call, but stoppedhimself. Not that the forestwas unsafe—he'd told Ryshathetruthaboutthat—butifhewas going to become a great

warrior,heneededtolearntothinklikeone.Feeling pleased with

himself for thinking of it,Daryd retraced his steps onsodden undergrowth andmossy roots toward themeadow, where he had lastseen Rysha. Rysha could beannoying, but she wasn'tstupid. She knew not towander and was usually farmore cautious than Darydwas. Even so, Daryd moved

atacrouch,scanningthroughthe trees as he'd seen hisfather and uncles do on ahunt,ahandonthehiltofhisknife.The forest grew lighter as

heapproachedthemeadow…andthen,hecouldhearanewsound, above the calling ofbirds, and the gentle rushingof the river. A deep, distantsound. Like thunder, onlysteady, not rising or falling.Daryd had never heard

anything like it before in hislife.Still creeping,hemadehis

way to the edge of themeadow and peered out.Essey's head was raised, nolonger chewing on the grass.Her ears were pricked, herattention turned toward theriver. Beyond the fringe oftrees where the meadowopened onto the riverbank,Daryd saw a dark massmoving.Atop thedarkmass,

sunlight glinted on metal.Occasionally a banner rose,flyingasitmoved.Horses,herealised in shock. The darkmasswashundredsofhorses.And the thunder noise wasthesoundofalltheirhooves.“Daryd!” hissed a voice

behind him, and he spun inshock,fumblingforhisknife.Rysha stood there, her lightbrown hair now decoratedwith a bright yellow butterflower. Daryd's heart

restarted,hiskneesthreatenedto give way. His fumblinghandhadnotfoundthehiltofhis knife at all, much to hisfrustration.“What?” he demanded

angrily. Her big eyes staredacrossthemeadow.“It's the Hadryn!” she

whispered, as if fearful theywouldoverhear.“TheHadrynhavecome!”Daryd stared across at the

far bank. And then he

realised…“Essey!”He ran onto the meadow,

grabbed thehorse's reins andled her back to the trees,hoping none of the riderswould see her through thatbrief gap in the trees. TheHadryn were headed towardYmoth. Toward home.Toward Papa, Mama and allthefamily.“Quick!”hesaidtoRysha,

“getup!”Foronceshedidn'tcomplain, and he helped her

astridebeforefollowing.“Wehave to warn Ymoth! That'sthe entire Hadryn army!”Even now, the column ofhorseswascontinuingtopassand showed no sign ofstopping. Not hundreds.Thousands.He urged Essey forward

through the trees, but theundergrowthherewasthickerthan nearer the fields.Immediately, his path wasblocked by a large fallen log

andhehadtogoaround,onlyto find that way partiallyblocked as well. Nimble-footedthoughshewas,Esseymadelittleprogressasbushescaught at her legs and rootscausedhertostumble.Acrossthe river, the Hadryn weremovingfar,farfaster.“We're too slow!” he told

Ryshadesperately,duckingalowbranchthatclawedathishair. “We have to ride alongtheriverbank!”

“Butthey'llseeus!”Ryshaprotested, her voice filledwithfear.“We have to warn Mama

and Papa!” said Daryd. “Wehavetogofaster!”HeturnedEssey toward the river andthemarewove,stumbledandboundedherwaybetweenthetrees as best she could.Finally the undergrowththinnedandEsseyclearedthelast, twisted trees upon theriverbank. The sight took

Daryd's breath away. Acrossthe fields on the far side ofthe Yumynis, a single,endless column of armouredmen on horseback wasmoving at a canter. Evenfromthefarbankofthewideriver,theroarofhoovesmadea sound so loud it wasfrightening. Banners flew ateven spacings along thecolumn, flying colours andsymbols that were foreign.Many of the riders were

wearing black, a Verenthanecolour. Daryd knew little ofthe Verenthanes, except thatsome were good, some werebad, and the Hadryn wereworst.He kicked his heels to

Essey's sides and she brokeinto her fastest gallop alongthe uneven riverbank grass.Rysha clutched him tightlyfrombehind,herfacepressedagainst his back—she hadnever liked it when he went

this fast and the riverbankwas not as flat as he wouldhave liked. Essey raced upand down the bumps, atfrightening speed, andDarydsimplytriedtostaystraightinthe saddle, unable to crouchas much as he'd like lest hegive Rysha nothing to holdonto.Above the thunder of

Essey's hooves, he heard adistant shout, then another.Heriskedaglanceacross the

river and saw a riderseparating from the column,gallopingtomatchhimalongtheopposingbank.Thatmanwas looking straight at him,fromahundred stridesaway,and fear knotted in Daryd'sstomach.TheHadrynwore amail shirt with a colouredvest and jacket over the top,andhisheadwas coveredbya pointy steel helm. An armwaswaved and another riderjoined the first, together they

toreaheadalongtheoppositeriverbank.ItstartledDarydtosee how fast they were—Essey was running at fullgallop, yet the two Hadrynhorsesgainedabigleadinnotime, disappearing nowbehindsomepoplarsgrowinginlinesalongtheriverbank.Then they reappeared

again, leapingdownfromthehigh bank to the gravellyriversideandcantering to thewater. Daryd's heart nearly

stopped again as he realisedthehorsesweregoingtocrosstheriver.Thewaterlevelwaslowthistimeofyearand,forthe big horses the Hadrynused, it probablywouldn't bedifficult.Ithadn'toccurredtohim.Terror floodedhisveinsandhecursedhimselfbitterly—not so much for himself,but for Rysha. He shouldnever have taken a risk withher life. His first and mostimportant role as a big

brother was to protect her,andhe'dfailed,miserably.TheHadryn horses slowed

as they splashed in theshallows, then slowed somemore as the water deepened.Esseygallopedpastthem,andthen the forest was endingand the wide, open fields ofYmoth's outer lands spreadgreen and shining beforethem. Ahead a distance wasfarmer Vayen's cottage,nestled amidst the poplars

along the riverbank. Darydgalloped that way, throughthe open gate of the emptyfield nearest the forest,casting desperate glancesover his shoulder at thepursuers.BothHadrynhorseswereswimmingnow,passingthe river's midway point.They were rapidly being leftbehind.Daryd felt a surgeofhope.Maybe they still had achance.The next field was filled

with sheep, the gates in itslow fenceline shut. “Holdon!” he yelled to Rysha andthumped his heels to Essey'ssidesasheaimedherstraightfor the low, wooden fence.Essey leaped and thengrounded on the far side,quickly regathering hermomentum. Sheep scatteredin a white, woolly tide.Farmer Vayen's cottage wascloser now. Beyond, theYumynis swept about in a

vast, right-hand turn to thenorth, toward the UdalynValley mouth. Just beyondthatriverbend,invisiblenowbehind the poplars, layYmoth, at the base offoothills that rose intomountainsbeyond.Itwasstillalongway.Essey cleared the next

fence too, and Daryd tookanother look over hisshoulder. The two horseswere bounding up the

riverbank behind, gallopinginhiswake.Thosemenwereheavy and armoured, butEsseywas carrying two.Theterror,momentarily subsided,resurfacedwithavengeance.Ahead,farmerVayencame

running fromhis cottage, hishairflowingoutbehindandabig sword grasped in bothhands. “Ride children!” heroared at them,waving a bighand. “Ride fast! Don't lookback!”

Daryd rode, tearing pastthecottageintowhichhehadbeen invited for lunch onnumerous occasions andwonderingwhereMrsVayenand the children were. Hesped through the next opengate and took another lookback—Farmer Vayen stoodon open ground before hiscottage, blade raised withmuscled arms, as the twoHadryn horses thunderedstraightforhim.Theirriders’

swords were unsheathed,gleaming in the brightmorningsun.He had to leap another

fence then andwhennext helooked about, both riderswerestillcomingandFarmerVayen was nowhere to beseen.Theriderswereclosingfast and Daryd realised thathe had no chance of gettingeven close to Ymoth beforetheycaughthim.HeturnedEsseyleft,away

fromtheriverandtowardthetreelineabout thebaseof theAralya Range. The rollingfarmland climbed gently andEssey'sgallopseemedtoslowjustalittle.Darydkickedherdesperately, looking about tofind that both Hadryn horseshad cut across the corner ofhis sharp turn,andwerenowhalvingthepreviousdistance.Another mistake. But hehadn'thadachoice.The high ridge of the

Aralya Range loomed farabove, like an enormous,sheerrockwall.Thepaddockslopebecamesteeperand thetreeline closer. Anotherglance behind and he couldsee the foam about theHadryn horses’ mouths andthe red decorations hangingfromtheirbridles.Closerandcloser they pounded. Rysha'sgripwaspainfullytight.Essey managed a final

burst of speed and then they

tore amongst the trees—theywere pines here, not thebroadleaf of the riverbank.Therewasspacebetween thetrunksandDarydwoveEsseybetweenthem.Trunksflashedpast at dangerous speed,Esseyslowingsomewhat,butthebigHadrynhorsesslowedmore.Suddenly the forest floor

surgedupinasheerrockwallandDarydturnedEsseytotheright, galloping thatway and

hoping it too would not beblocked…a Hadryn cut pastbehind and Daryd saw theman's determined face, hisjaw set beneath his helm,sword in hand and fightingthereinsone-handed.The bigger horses seemed

to have trouble changingdirection amongst the trees,however, and Essey surgedahead, just missed collidingwith a pine…and then therewas a line of thick broadleaf

ahead, and undergrowth,where a stream fell from theAralyamountain face.Darydplunged into it, undergrowthtearing at Essey's legs,branches whipping at hisface. It opened suddenly intothe stream, intowhich Esseysplashed,thenboundedupthefar side. The undergrowththere was impenetrable andso Daryd reined herdownslope, searching for away through…and suddenly

there was a Hadryn ridercrashing across the stream infront of him, moving to cuthimoff.Thesecondriderhadflanked him, he realised inshock.Theoldestmanoeuvreof horseback warfare. He'dfancied himself an Udalynwarrior, but in truth, itseemedthathewasjustaboyafterall.Behind him, the first rider

wasnowcrashingontothefarstreambank, cutting him off

completely.Somethinghissedthroughtheair,thenathud…the first rider screamed, thencursed.Darydstaredandsawthe man had been struck byan arrow in the shoulder andwasstrugglingtostayahorse.Thentherewasanotherhorseemerging from the treelinedirectly behind Daryd andRysha, its rider wielding abow.The second Hadryn

chargedalongthestreambank

and the new rider cast thebow aside, charging pastDaryd and Rysha whilstpulling his sword. Esseyreared in fright, then Ryshascreamed and fell from thesaddle.“Rysha!” Daryd cried as

the two riders collided withyells and clashing steel,horses shrieking andstamping…but Daryd caredonly forRysha, leaping fromEssey's back and slithering

down the streambank whereshe'd rolled.Ahorse fell androlled in the stream with ahuge splash and a manemerged soaked from thewateralongside—hishairwaslongish, Daryd saw, and hewore no colours ormail.Hishorse bounded clear of thestream—asmallerhorse, likeEssey—and the Hadryn, stillastride,descendedtheslopingbankwithweaponraised.The fallen man pulled a

knife and threw, which theHadrynswattedwithamailedarm…butthebighorserearedand the fallen man sprangforward and thrust for theHadryn's leg. The Hadrynyelled with a yank on thereins,causingthebighorsetotwist,thenslipandfall.Itslidheavily into the water,scrambling once more to itsfeet as its rider staggereduprightinitswake.Theothermanwasonhim

beforehecouldrecover,steelrang loudandclear fromoneblow, then another. TheHadryn slipped, defendedanother blow, then reversedwith a surgeof rawpower—his attacker parried but lostbalance from the sheer force,falling half in the water andlosing his blade. But he wasup before the Hadryn couldfinish him, grabbing theHadryn's sword arm andgrappling. Both men fell

wrestling into the water,splashing and flailing, withgrunting,franticdesperation.Daryd clutched to Rysha,

the twoof themwatchingonthe streambank inmesmerisedhorrorasthetwomen tried to kill each other.The Hadryn seemed to bestronger and held the otherman under water, his teethbared in a furious snarl. Theother man struggled,splashed, then struck the

Hadryn's wounded leg. TheHadrynscreamed,butdidnotrelent his grip. Was struckagain,whichloosenedahandenough for the other man tograb and bite. Again theHadryn screamed, and theman beneath him struck himin the face and rolled himover,searchingthestreambedwith another hand.He foundarock,raisedandstruckwithit—again and again, as theHadryn tried to defend

himself.Rysha sobbed and buried

her face into Daryd's chest.The Hadryn's helm wasmissing, and the mail hoodprovidedsomeprotection,butthe man with the rock wasrelentless. He continued tostrikewith terrible fury,untiltheHadryn'sstrugglesceased.Then he stood up, shouldersheaving, and searched theshallows until he found hisblade. That done, he stood

over the fallen man's body,raisedthebladewithitspointdownandplunged it throughthe protective mail. Andtwisted,horribly.Daryd's stomach turned

andhe lunged for the streamto vomit. He was still there,onhandsandknees,whenthebedraggled, bloodstainedvictorsplashedupstreampasthim,hisbladeinhand.Darydwatched, knowing heshouldn't, but unable to tear

his eyes away. The manarrived at where the secondHadryn now lay on thestreambank, clutchinghelplesslyattheshaftbeneathhis inner collar-bone. Thefear in the wounded Hadrynman's eyes twisted Daryd'sstomach once more and hevomitedagain.Helookedup,just in time to see the victoryank off the Hadryn'sprotectivemail hood and cuthisthroat.

Then he walked to theHadryn's horse, which wasstandingfearfullynearby,andextended a hand, speakingsoftly. Soon he was strokingits nose, and it seemednoticeablycalmer.Heledthehorse downstream, where itdrankwhile theman crossedthestreamtorecoverhisbow.Finally, he walked to wherethe two muddy, wet andterrified Udalyn childrenhuddled together by the

streamside.Darydgottohisfeet,stood

beforeRysha and put a handon his knife,warningly. Thismanwas clearly notHadryn,but he did not look Udalyn,either—his face bore nomarkings and his wet hair,while shoulder-length, wasnot long enough for a braid.The man had rugged,weathered features and hiswet clotheswere the leathersand rough cloth that a

woodsmanmightwear.He crouched on one knee,

disregardingDaryd'swarningstance. “Udalyn?” he asked,pointingatDaryd.Hisaccentwas very strong. Daryd hadnever met a non-Udalynbeforeinhislife.Henodded,warily. “MyEdu…” themanmadeaface.“Verybad.LittleEdu.Understand?”Again, Daryd nodded. His

mouthtastedofvomitandhishead spun. But he was

determined not to faint. Thatwouldbe a final humiliation,before this strange, foreignwarriorwhohaddefeatedtwoHadryn cavalry before hisveryeyes. “Iunderstand,”hesaidwarily.“Whoareyou?”Inexplicably, the man's

ruggedfeaturessplitinahardsmile.AsiftheverysoundofDaryd's speech had causedhim pleasure. His eyes, hardand merciless the momentbefore, nownarrowedwith a

lookofwonder.“Udalyn,”hemurmured. And somethingelse,inaforeigntongue,withafaintshakeofhishead.“MynameJurellyn,”he said then,very carefully. “PrinceDamon efryn sy. Rels enPrince Damon Lenayin.Understand?”The foreign words must

have been Lenay, Darydguessed.Lenaywasspokeninthe middle provinces, he'dheard…although in the last

century, it had spreadelsewhere and becomeLenayin's major tongue. ButintheValleyoftheUdalyn,itremained as strange andforeign as the many tonguesofthewiseonesofSaalshen.“Prince Damon Lenayin

sentyou?”Darydguessed.Theman, Jurellyn, nodded

vigorously. Then clicked hisfingersasawordoccurredtohim. “Scout,” he said. “Mescout. Prince Damon's army.

Scout Hadryn.” Pointing atthe fallen men. “I scoutHadryn.”Pointingtohiseyes.“See Hadryn. Tell PrinceDamon. Hadryn go Ymoth.FightYmoth.Understand?”Ymoth. Abruptly, Daryd

recalled his original mission.His family were in Ymoth.TheHadrynwereheretokill.He had just seen killing, forthe first time, with his owneyes. The thought of thathappeningtohisfamilyfilled

him with a terror that madeanyfearforhisownlifeseemlikenothing.“My family live in

Ymoth!” he told the man,desperately. “Mymother andfather, my brothers…I havetowarnthem!”Jurellyn shook his head,

firmly. “Hadryn, Udalyn,fight,” he said, smacking fistinto open palm. “You goYmoth, you die.Understand?”Darydstaredat

him. Tears spilled down hischeeks. Jurellyn put a firmhand on his shoulder. “YougoBaen-Tar.You seePrinceDamon. You see KingTorvaal. You scout. You…you tell him, what you see.Then, you save father, yousave mother, you savebrother.Understand?”The king would send an

army,hemeant.Daryd'seyeswidened inhope.Herecalledwhat the adults had always

said—that the Hadryn wouldnever dare attack so long asthekingforbadeit.EversinceKing Chayden, the Lenaykingshadforbiddenit.Daryddid not understand what hadchangedthattheHadrynnowdared the present king'swrath. But if he could meetwiththeking…ifhecouldtellhimwhatwashappeningheretoday…“I'll go!” he said firmly.

“I'llmeetwiththeking!ButI

don't know the way…willyoutakemethere?”Jurellyn smiled a hard

smile. “My friend. Myfriend…take?” Darydnodded.“Myfriendtakeyou,seeKingTorvaal.Goodman.BraveUdalyn.”Daryd felt his chest swell

at that. The foreign warriorthought him brave…andthought the Udalyn brave.The foreigners still toldstories about the bravery of

the Udalyn, as he'd heardsome in Ymoth say. Surelythe kingwould listen. Surelyno one could just stand byand let the Udalyn beslaughteredoncemore.

“Ow!” Sasha exclaimed,somewhat after the fact, asshe prodded the new bruiseon her bicep. Andreyisbacked off, stanch twirling,

looking very pleased withhimself. Sasha gave him thismorning's customary darkstare and he sobered a little.Shewindmilledherarm,fast,to keep it loose. “Don't gettoo pleased with yourself,”she toldhim.“Ihate fightingwiththisstupidstyle.”“But I'm getting better,

right?” Andreyis insisted.“Thatwasagoodstrike!”Sashawonderedifhetruly

appreciated how difficult it

was for her to fight in atraditional Lenay style. Butthe Wakening would bebarely a moon from now—the end of summer, thetraditional time for theceremony of manhood—andAndreyisneededthepractice.Evenwiththehandicapofhergender, therewere thingsshecould teach him in this stylethat the Baerlyn menfolkcould not show him in thetraininghall.

They stood on the baregroundbeneaththeoldvertyntree, near the top fence ofKessligh's vegetable garden.The horses grazed across thevast upper slope enclosure,their coats gleaming in thesun. Kessligh had gone totown,takingAidenwithhim.Sasha had not been unhappytoseethemgo.“You're planting the front

foot too soon on the secondtransition,”shetoldAndreyis,

tryingherbest toignoreboththebruisesandherbadmood,for Andreyis's sake. Allyoung Goeren-yai maleseagerly anticipated theWakening. Andreyis'stechnique was good, but hisrecent growth spurt hadimpeded his footwork, andthus his timing. She refusedtolethimfail.“Seehere…thearms follow the feet,Andrey.”Shetookthestance,holding her arms clear, and

danced the several fast stepsof the racha-dan, withoutmoving her arms. “It's likedrums in a folk tune—yourfootinggivesyou the rhythmthat everything else shouldfollow. This lead foot is toofast,” and she stamped thatfoot to demonstrate, “theswing and plant should besimultaneous.”“Igotyou,didn'tI?”“Ican'tdefendinthisstyle,

Andrey,” she told him, with

barelyrestrainedtemper.“I'mnot strong enough.” Onething Andreyis did havegoing for him lately was hisreach. She could barelybelievehowtallhe'dbecome,still recalling the awkward,nervous boy she'd wrestledwith, climbed trees with anddefended imaginary castleswith against equallyimaginary hordes ofbloodthirsty Cherrovanwarriors.Now,thetopofher

head came barely to hisshoulder,andtheswingofhisarms, though lacking thepower of a grown man,generated considerable speedwith stanch or sword. “Now,areyougoingtolistentome,or am I just wasting mytime?”Andreyis must have seen

the dark look in her eyes forhe held up both hands,defensively. “I'm listening.Showmeagain?”

Shetookhimthroughallofthe fundamental taka-dans,whichwerenotsodifferentinbasic strokes to svaalverdtaka-dans, truly. And sheacquiredseveralmorebruisesalong the way, for Andreyisknew better than to pull hisstrokes—if he acquired thatbadhabitbeforetheheadmenat the ceremony, he'd remaina boy for one more,humiliatingyear,andhavehishair cut short once more.

Mostly, she concentrated onfootwork,whichwas theonething svaalverd and Lenaystyleshadincommon.Exceptthat the serrin understoodbalance andmomentumwithfar greater sophistication.Sometimes, svaalverdknowledgecouldassistanon-svaalverd fighter, whateverKessligh's doubts. She'd seenit herself, in Andreyis'simprovements.And saw it again now, as

he smacked her stanch backto a hard blow against herright thigh.Andreyis grinnedoutright. Sasha scowled athim, rubbing her leg. “Itwasn't that good,” she toldhim. “Your elbow lostextension again, you'd haveso much more power if youcould keep the lead armstraight.”Andreyis slung the stanch

over his shoulder and gaveher an exasperated look.

“Youjustcan'tstandtoadmitwhensomeone'sbeatenyou,”hetoldher.“Oh you think that, do

you?”Sashasaidloudly.“You've always been like

that!” Andreyis retorted.“Like that time I beat youracinguptheroadfromtownand you insisted Peg had acold?Or the time I beat youat the knife throw and, ofcourse, you justhappened tohave a sore elbow? Or that

time…”“Okay then, let's try that

again,” Sasha told him,resuming her fighting stance.Andreyis followed,eyeshardwith concentration, lipspressedthin.“Thistime,Igettofightmyway.Ready?Go.”Andreyis paused a few

moments,poisedon theballsofhis feet, awaiting the rightmoment. Then he attacked.Sasha met his lead overheadwith a firm blade—it jarred

herarms,butwhensheknewit was coming, she did havethe strength for it. Then shestopped being polite, swungan angular intercept to thestrike that followed,deflecting Andreyis awayfrom whatever he'd intendednext, and left him open forhercounterslashthatsmackedintohisribsbeneathhisrightarm.Andreyis staggered

sideways at the force of it,

dropping his stanch andholding his chest. “I've toldyou before,” Sasha saidfirmly, as he doubled over,winded, “you can't maketraining personal, Andrey. Itcan't be about egoandpride,it has to be about improvingyourtechnique.Nowifyou'lljustgetthisstupidnotionthatyoucanbeatmeatsvaalverdoutofyourhead,thenmaybewe can get back to fixingyourfootwork,yes?”

Andreyisdidnotreply,stilldoubled over. Sasha's temperfled, replaced by concern.The sound her stanch hadmadeagainsthisbandacameagain to memory…Howcould she have been sostupid? She hadn't needed tohithimthathard!“Andrey!”Shedroppedher

stanch and grabbed him,carefully. “Oh spirits,Andrey! Spirits, I'm sostupid…I'm sorry, Andrey, I

wasn't thinking. Are youokay?”Andreyis took a deep

breath and winced, holdinghisside.“Ithinkyoucrackeda rib,” he said in a smallvoice.Sasha swore, loudly.

“Look…just sit down.Damnit, I'msucha fool!Comeon,sit. Here.” She helped himdown and began unstrappinghis banda.Andreyis triednotto breathe deeply, or move.

She lifted the padding away.“If you can lift your arm atall,I'llgetyourshirtoff,”shetoldhimanxiously.“Canyoudothat?”“Don't bother,” Andreyis

said, in a small, muffledvoice.“Don't bother?”She stared

at him, aghast. “Andrey, Ihave to look. I can see if it'sbroken, then…then maybeKesslighwillhavesomethingto help it heal…Spirits, why

am I such an idiot? Justbefore the Wakening too!WhatwasI…”And then she saw the grin

on Andreyis's face and thereason his voice had beenmuffled. He was trying tostop from laughing. Shestared at him, dumbfounded.Somethingbubbledupinside,halffury,halflaughter.“You!You…” She turned about,fetched up her stanch andthought about removing his

head with it. Andreyis putboth arms over his head,shaking uncontrollably, butnotwithfear.Shethrewthestanchdown,

hard.“Youutterbastard!”sheshoutedathim.“IthoughtI'dreallyhurtyou!”“You did!” Andreyis

retorted, now indignantdespite his laughter. “It hurtlike hell! Serves you right,hot-temperedwench!”Sasha cuffed at the top of

his head, but missed onpurpose. And found herselflaughing. “Oh thank thegods,” she sighed, and satheavilybesidehim.Andreyis made the spirit

sign, with his left hand.“Don't say that,” he said.“Not in the circle.” Not thatthere was a proper tachadarcirclebeneaththevertyntree,but one did not praiselowlands gods within them,lestthespiritsbeoffended…

“Oldhabit,”saidSasha.Andreyis winced again as

hetookadeepbreath.“Istilldon'tknowhowyoudothat.Iwasalmostoverpoweringyoufor a while there, and thenyoujust…”“Technique is more

powerfulthanmuscle,”Sashasaidsimply.“Ifmytechniqueis superior, my strength ofmuscle is irrelevant. EvenJaegar can't touch thesvaalverd.”

Andreyis frowned. “So nonon-svaalverd fighter evenhas a chance? Then how didthe Saalshen Bacosh armieseven take any losses in allthose wars the Larosalaunchedagainstthem?”Sasha shook her head.

“That's a different kind offighting.TheBacoshwarsareall armour and shields, hugeformations of men with noroomtoswing.Iwouldn'tlasta heartbeat in that kind of

fight. You'd do better thanme, probably. The SaalshenBacosh armies are soformidable because theycombine the best of humantactics and mass formationswithserrinfightingtechniqueand serrin steel andcraftsmanshipinweaponsandarmour.”Andreyisjustlookedather.

Itwasa face thatmighthavebeen handsome, were it notso familiar. Despite his

eighteen summers, and thenew strength of his jaw andbrow, she could not help butnotice the boyish ears thatstuck out, or the reluctantnose.With his dark hair andfunnydarkeyes,hecontinuedto look…well, puppyish.Sadly, many other girls inBaerlyn seemed to think thesame.Thosegirlsonlyflirtedand giggled with the rough-and-tumble lads, andregarded a quiet, awkward,

thoughtful boy like Andreyiswithcooldisdainorworse.“AreyougoingtoPetrodor

with Kessligh?” he askedfinally.Sasha stared at him,

incredulously. “And abandonLenayin?WhatdoesKraylissdo when he arrives in Baen-Tar and discovers I'm notthere?At least if I'm there, Ican…I don't know. Try tokeep him under controlsomehow. The man's only a

hairsbreadth away fromopentreason.”Andreyis stared at his

boots. “I don't understand,”he said quietly. “I don'tunderstand why Kesslighwouldleave.”“That makes two of us,”

Sashasaiddarkly.“Is there…is there

something in the Nasi-Kethbeliefs that…I mean…” Heseemed at a loss for words.Sashaknewhowhe felt. “So

muchofwhattheserrinthinkis so strange and…I don'tknow, maybe he has hisreasons. Reasons we can'tunderstand.”“I'm Nasi-Keth,” Sasha

retorted, “and I don'tunderstand.”“Aye,butyou'renotreally

Nasi-Keth.”Sashafrownedathim. Andreyis blinked.“Well, you are Nasi-Keth,but…but you're Goeren-yaifirst,aren'tyou?”

“Theserrindon'tthinklikethat, Andrey. They can bemany thingsatonce,not likehumanswhocanonlybeonething at a time. The Nasi-Keth aren't a religion, they'rejust a collection of ideas andnoneofthemareexclusiveofother ideas. So most of thePetrodor Nasi-Keth areVerenthanes too—theypractise serrin teachings, yetthey pray to the Verenthanegods and hold temple

communion like anyVerenthane. So there's noreason a Goeren-yai can'tfollow serrin teachings…hells, a lot of Goeren-yaialready do, sort of. Serrinhave been coming here forcenturies, they'velefta lotofknowledgebehind.“But serrin don't have a

religion. They don't believejust one thing. They…”Damn, she'd tried to explainthis to various Baerlyners

before, but it was difficult.Now, it seemed important totry…for herself, as much asAndreyis. “They have a wayof thinking; they try to berational. It's not that theydon'tbelieveinanything,theydo…but that's the problem,they believe in everything.They don't go around sayingthis is impossible or that'simpossible, like humans do.They accept everyone'sbeliefs because they know

theycan'tdisprovethem.Andanythingyoucan'tdisproveispossible,right?”Andreyis frowned for a

moment, thinking that over.Proof.NoGoeren-yai,andnoVerenthane, ever thought ofproof. The spirits, or thegods, didn't need to beproven,theyjustwere.“SoifKessligh'sjustbeing

rational,” Andreyis ventured,“maybe…maybehe's right togo to Petrodor. Maybe he's

just smarter than us, maybehecanseethingswecan't.”“Aye,” said Sasha,

nodding. There was a slow-burning fury inside,now thatthe shock hadworn off.Anditwasbuilding.“He'sbeingageneral. In theGreatWar hehad to make nasty decisions—liberate some towns, leaveotherstodie;keepsomemeninreserve,sendotherstodie.Nasi-Keth teachings makehim good at that. He's a

rational commander. Hedidn'tbelievehewasgoingtowinabattlebecausethestarswereinalignment,orbecausethe priest gave him a holyblessing—heknewthatitwasuptohim,andhimalone,andhedidn'tjustleaveittofaith.That's why he won all thetime.“Hedid thatwithme, too.

He wouldn't say nice thingswhenImightwantthemsaid.He wouldn't comfort me, or

give any real affection. Hewanted me to be strongenough to take care ofmyself. It's all a part of thepattern, Andrey. He's sodamn sensible and intelligentit makes me want to throwup.”“But…” Andreyis's gaze

nowwasworried.“Butifhe'sthinking like a general, thensurely…surely he's going todo the right thing in theend,no matter what we might

thinkofitnow…”“Don'tyougetit,Andrey?”

Sashasnappedathim.“Don'tyouunderstand?Allthatmanever cared about was theNasi-Keth and the serrin.Hesaid as much himself. Henever renounced thoseloyaltiestomyfatherand,myfatherwassuchasoft-headedfool, he never demanded it.He's not interested in savingus, he's only interested insaving them! And now he's

been to Halleryn, he's seenwhat Krayliss is up to, andhe's decided we're all a lostcauseandhe'llgorunningoffto Petrodor to take care ofwhat's truly important tohim!”Sasha got to her feet and

snatched up her stanch fromthedirt.“Lenayinmadehimahero, it gave him all thisstatuswiththeNasi-Keth,andnow he's got it, he's finishedwith us. Well, he may be a

greatgeneral, andhemaybesmart and rational, but he'sgot no heart and no soul!Damned if I'll end up likehim. I'd rather stay here anddie for something I believein.”

Sashawas forkinghay in thebarnbehind the stableswhenthere came a new thunder ofhoovesfromoutside.Atfirst,

shebarelynoticed—Andreyishad been practising hiscavalry moves on the white-sockedmare,Rassy, and thissounded like just anotherpass. Then the hooves cameagain, only this time shecould hear two horses, onelighterthantheother.She lookeddownfromher

high bale as a little dussiehrode straight into the barn,riddenbya smallishGoeren-yai man she did not

recognise. Andreyis arrivedaswellanddismountedatthebarn'sentrance.“M'Lady Sashandra!” said

the man, sighting her abovehim. “M'Lady, I come fromCryliss! Lord Kumaryn ridestoBaerlynwiththeValhananBlackWolves and more! Hemeans to apprehend you andYuan Kessligh on charge ofmurder!”Sashafrownedathim.“Murder?” she said

incredulously. “Whosemurder?”“M'Lady, I'm not certain,

butIthinkitwasamanoftheFalconGuard.Alieutenant,Ibelieve.”Lieutenant Reynan Pelyn.

Sasha swore in disbelief.Tyree was Valhanan's closeneighbourand thenobilityofboth provinces were close;there were many marriagesand relations between thetwo. Family Pelyn was an

important family in theheirarchy of Tyree nobilityanditwouldbenosurpriseifthere were close relations toFamilyTathys,ofwhichLordKumarynTathysofValhananwashead.ButLordKumarynthought

topinthatdeathonher?Hadsomeone lied to protectJaryd?OrhadJarydbetrayedher?OrwasKumarynsimplydeterminedtoridhisprovinceof Valhanan's most

troublesome twosome? Hehad some balls, if that werethecase.Balls,orrocksinhishead.She stabbed her pitchfork

into thehaybale. “How longuntil they get here?” sheasked.“They departed at dawn,”

said the Cryliss man. “I leftbeforedawn,myhorseisfastoverdistances. I'dguess theymight be here a hand beforesundown.” The man's pony

waslatheredwhitewithsweatand breathing hard. “I gavewordtoseveralvillagesalongthe way, some pledged tosend help. Four other ridersfrom Cryliss set out in otherdirections, it remains to beseen if the help they sendarrivesintime.”“We'd best ride back and

tell the town!” saidAndreyisfrom the doorway, a littlebreathlessly.“There'snowaywe'll let him take you for

something you didn't do!Besides, he's got no rightsover Baerlyn; Baerlyn onlyanswerstotheking!”Sashaletoutashortbreath.

“I'llrideback,”shereplied.“IwantyouandLynette tostayhere…”“No!” Andreyis was

indignant.“Noway!Mytownisthreatened,you'renotgoingto stop me from defendingmypeopleandmyfamily!”Sasha jumped down to a

lower bale, then onto thefloor.“Andrey…someonehastostayhere,”shesaid,takingup her bandoleer withscabbard attached, andclipping it toherbelt. “If it'snot you, it'll have to besomeoneelse—wecan'tmakea defensive line forward oftheranch,we'llhavetoleaveitopentothem.ThoseCrylissbastardshavenever likedmeor Kessligh, they might justtaketheopportunitytosteala

few horses or damage thehouse, if there's no one hereto see it. You'll be safeenough, they'll never hurtchildren—”“I'mnotachild!”Andreyis

retorted.“Andrey…” Sasha sighed,

positioning the bandoleercomfortably over hershoulder,where the skinwastough beneath its familiarweight,“themarkofaLenaymanisthathedefendswhat's

his. This ranch is yours,Andrey,asmuchasitismineorKessligh's.Don'tyouwanttodefendit?”Andreyis looked

uncomfortable. “Of course Ido,butmyfamily…”“You think you can do a

better job of defending thevillage than the older men?Would it be a sensibleallocation of resources tosend one of the moreexperienced warriors here to

watch the horses, while youtake his place on the line?Would that make Baerlynsafer?” Andreyis looked attheground.Sashagatheredupthe armfuls of hay she'dpitched and began dumpingthem into the barrow. “Yourtime will come, just bepatient. Besides, it'll be justyou against an army. Soundslikemuchmorefun,wouldn'tyousay?”“Me and Lynette,”

Andreyisretorted.“Shecouldscratchthemtodeath.”Butheseemedmollifiedas

Sashawheeled the barrow tothestables.Sheexplainedthesituation to a wide-eyedLynette,whohadbeentakingher turn at stablework, andgatheredPeg fromhisgrassyfield for the ride into town.Lynette helped the Crylissrider to water and feed, andrubbed down his horse—thedussieh was clearly tired.

Sasha suggested he shouldleave the little mare to restand borrow one of her ownhorsesinstead.The Cryliss rider politely

refused. “She'll be good injust a little while,” heinsisted,givingthepony'sjawan affectionate rub as shechewed contentedly on somehay. “She'll run all day on acupofwaterandahandfulofgrass, thendo itallagain thenext.Nooffence,M'Lady,but

Iwouldn'ttradeherfortenofyour big brutes, no matterwhat the lowlanders pay forthem.”

Great Lord Kumaryn arrivedat Baerlyn as the lateafternoon sun hung low overthevalley.Hishostnumberedperhaps threehundred,Sashareckoned, a great, snakinglineofthunderinghoovesand

glinting helms. Banners withthe stallion on the red andgoldofValhanan flew to theforefront, alongside thehowlingblackwolfonblueofthe Black Wolves. Thecolumn came across theuphill paddocks beyond theupper treeline, threadingbetweenbouldersthatloomedfrom the green grass andglowedadull,irongreyinthelightfromtheloweringsun.Baerlyn's defensive line

spreadwideacross theuphillend of the Baerlyn Valley,concentrated here before theupslope buildings. All thevillage's men stood, or satahorse, weapons unsheathedand gripped with the casualease that a smithy mightgrasp his hammer. Somestood across the fences toeither side of the main road,in paddocks emptied oflivestock, before ricketywooden barns, shacks, and a

pigsty, keeping the linestraight.Sasha satbehind themain line on Peg, withKessligh astride Terjellyn atherside.Further to the left, the

exposed fields about thevalley'ssmallstreamheldthemajority of gatheredhorsemen,wardingaflankingmove. Amongst them weremany men from Yule,perhapsfivefoldsdistancetothe south, who had arrived

justafewmomentsbefore.They conceded Kumaryn

the high ground above thevalley'send;shouldanattackcome, they would fall backinto the village, where thebuildings and lanes wouldremovemuchofthecavalry'sadvantage, and strategicallyplacedropes,pikesandspearswould avail the localswordsmen of a surprise. Aswould some of the moreassertiveBaerlynwomenwho

had taken up Sasha'ssuggestion some years agoand learned archery. Theywaited now by the windowsof their houses, ready to putarrows into any passingattacker.LordKumaryndidnotline

his army across the openground atop the slope intoBaerlyn—suchamovewouldhave been almost adeclaration of war. Instead,the head of the column

approached between woodenfences that hemmed in theleading horses, just as thedefendershad intended.LordKumaryn wanted to talk,Sasha reckoned…at least fora while. A gaunt-faced manwith a large, pinched noseandawhitebeardhelduphishand. The three hundredhorse column came to a stopin clouds of sunlit dust. Ayoung man in lordly clothesrodeforward.Inonehand,he

carried the banner of FamilyTathys—a stone towerpiercedbyalightningstrike.Verenthane lords and their

family emblems, Sashathoughtsourly,watchinghim.Pompous fools. Fancyparading it around lowlandsstyle, as if the very presenceofthatbloodlineshouldcausemen to fall to one knee inreverence.“Greetings men of

Baerlyn!” the young man

cried, his voice high andclear. A squire, Sasharecalled such banner carrierswere called amongst thelordly classes. Anotherstupid, imported lowlandsword. Goeren-yai and theruralfolkofLenayinwerenotyeteducatedinsuchcivilisedterminology. Sasha hopedfervently that they wouldnever need to be. “MyGreatLord Kumaryn Tathys ofValhanan bids you

greetings!”“Aye,hello!”calledoneof

the Baerlyn men cheerfully,toaroaroflaughterfromtherest.The squire swallowed

nervously.“AsGreatLordofValhanan, Great LordKumarynhas ridden today toBaerlyn to claim his rightunder law! It has recentlycome to my Lord's attentionthat upon the recent ride ofthe Tyree Falcon Guard into

theprovinceofTaneryn…”“Where's your balls, lad?”

yelled another man. Sashathought it soundedsuspiciously like Teriyan.Morelaughter.“HelefttheminCryliss,by

the sound of it!” yelledanother.“Nay, Kumaryn borrowed

them!”Raucous howls. This,Sasha thought with a sigh,was quite certainly Teriyan.“Be fair, Kumaryn!Give the

lad his balls back, we knowyou'vegotnoneedofthem!”“Into the province of

Taneryn,” the squirecontinued, his high voicewavering. Sasha almost feltsorry for him. “There theGreatLordKumaryn'sdearestrelative, the LieutenantReynan Pelyn, of the nobleTyree family of Pelyn, andfamily to Great LordKumaryn through hismarriage to his sister's

cousin…”Groansofderisionfrom the Baerlyners. “…methis end in highly suspiciouscircumstances! Word fromtruth-loving men has placedthe blame for this callousmurder upon the person ofSashandraLenayin…”“Fuck off, you two-bit

fool!” came a yell withpreciouslittlehumourinit.“Nay!” came Teriyan's

loud reply. “Even for a fool,he'snotworthone-and-five!”

Behind the squire, at thehead of Kumaryn's column,Sasha noted many men whohad ridden forward to hear.Some were officers of theBlack Wolves, others werenoble Verenthanes, well-dressed and well-groomedatop their large horses.Several others were Goeren-yai—Cryliss had someGoeren-yai, Sasha knew,largely about the cityperimeter. A few Cryliss

Goeren-yai were wealthymerchants and traders liketheir Verenthane comrades,thoughnonehadyetaccepteda title.Most refused nobilityasaconcept.Swordworkandhonour,notwealthand titles,made the measure of aGoeren-yai man. And SashaknewsomeVerenthaneswhofeltthesame.“And so,” the squire

resumed, now utterlyflustered, “Great Lord

Kumaryn demands by thepowers of law vested in himthat the Lady Sashandra behandedovertohiscustodyatonce, for a trial by theprocedureslaidoutwithintheking'slaw!”The squire finished and

backed up his horse. Ironicalapplausefollowedhim.“Welldone,lad!”someoneshouted.“Fucking incomprehensible,butwelldone!”Jaegar walked forward

from the line. Like many inLenayin, he disdained horseswhen there was a chance tofight on foot. In rugged,forested Lenayin, that wasoften. His leather jerkin hadnosleevesandhewieldedthemassive blade in his hand asifitwereatwig.“Lord Kumaryn!” he

shouted, in a deep, yeteloquent voice. “I'm verysorrythatyou'vecomeallthisway for nothing! Baerlyn

swears its allegiance to thekinginBaen-Tar,nottoyou!You have no authority toapprehend or administer atrialagainstanyman,womanor child of Baerlyn in thename of justice! Justicebelongs to the king, not toprovinciallords!Goodbye!”The gaunt-faced, white-

bearded man rode forwardatop a dappled, grey-whitemare.His cloakwas red andgold,andheworeablueshirt

and leather vest over chain.Sasha saw the sweat on hisbrow.Hehadtohaveatleastfifty summers…didn't theheatbotherhim?Sheswattedat a fly…up here about thepigandsheepenclosures, thefliesbredsomethingfierceinsummer.“Master Jaegar, I

presume?” Kumaryn calleddownfromhishorse.“Yuan Jaegar,” Baerlyn's

headman corrected. He

planted his swordtip on theroad and folded his handsatop the hilt, feet set wide.Kumaryn's blue eyes werecoldwithdisdainandhisnosewaswrinkled.“Youforgetyourself,Yuan

Jaegar,” said Kumaryn. Hedidnot speak loudly enough.Further along the line, menwere straining to hear. “I amGreatLordofValhanan.Thattitle was granted to FamilyTathys a hundred and three

yearsagobyKingSorosandhascarriedontomefrommyfather and grandfather beforeme. I rule Valhanan, YuanJaegar.Bestthatyourecall.”“No, you tax Valhanan!”

Teriyanretortedfrombehind.“In these parts, we callsomeone who takes moneywhilst giving nothing inreturnathief!”A cheer went up. Jaegar

held up a hand and the menquieted. “The king's law is

quite explicit,” he said, veryreasonably. “A provinciallordmaylevyapropertytax,and nomore, for the upkeepof provincial affairs. Aprovincial lordwilldealwithsuchlocalmattersoflawandorder thatdonotconcern theking…”Some of the mounted

nobles were laughing. “Youthink to lecture me on theking's law?” said Kumaryn,smilingcoldly.

“No, well, I thought theremight be somedisagreement,” Jaegar saidconversationally, “so Ibrought along a copy.” Hewaved to Teriyan, whostepped from the line with ascroll inonehandandswordin the other. The nobles’smiles faded. Teriyanunravelled the scroll forJaegar to read from. “Aye,here it is. The rights andresponsibilities of the office

ofprovinciallordship.”“Aye, that'd be you then,

wouldn't it?” Teriyansuggested to Kumaryn withan insolent grin. Kumarynglared, fingering the hilt ofhissword.“The law of Lenayin shall

beadministeredbytheking,”Jaegar continued, readingeasily from the scroll. Someof the nobles lookedastonished. No doubt manyhad presumed that all

Goeren-yai were illiterate.“Onmatterspertaining to theprovincial lord's peace, saidlord shall be considered anofficer of the king, for thepurposeof justice.Provincialaffairs beneath the king'sconsideration shall includecommontheft,rape,affairsofmarriage and all pertainingrights and properties,matterspertaining to contests ofhonour, disputes of land andboundaries…”

“Where does the scrollcome from?” one ofKumaryn's party saidsuspiciously.“A copy,” Jaegar said

mildly. “Those among uslearned in writing do makecopies of such things anddistribute them among thevillages. You never knowwhenthey'llcomeinhandy.”“You can read Torovan?”

another asked, with equalsuspicion.

“It's a translation,” Jaegaradmitted.ItwassaidthatKingSoros

hadbarelyspokenanyLenaywhen he had arrived inLenayin all those years ago,Sasha knew. Raised inPetrodor from childhood,having been smuggled fromCherrovan-occupied Lenayin,he'd known mostly Torovan,and most official documentsof the period remained inTorovanevennow.

“Enoughofthisnonsense!”Kumaryn barked. His facewasreddishnow,partlyfromtemper, and partly, Sashasuspected, from the heat.“You defy your lawful lord!ThegirlSashandraisaccusedbefore the law! If you resistmy lawful request, I shalltake her by force and haveBaerlyn declared a village oftraitors!”“If there is anaccusation,”

Jaegar retorted, his tone

hardening, “then the lawexplicitly states that she isanswerable to the king, andthe king alone. You are theking's officer, my Lord. Aservant. And the accused,may I remind you, is theking'sdaughter…”“A title she renounced

twelve years ago when sheabandonedhimtotheserviceof that foreign cult!”Kumaryn glared straight atherforthefirsttime,overthe

headsofarmedBaerlynmen.“Youshallyield,oryoushallfacetheconsequences!”“Got a lot of gall, doesn't

he?” Sasha suggested toKessligh. Kumaryn was thegreatest fool inLenayin ifhethought this pathetic bluffwasgoing towork.Kessligh,however,lookedgrim.“Hey look!” came a shout

fromaBaerlynman.“There'sMasterWensyl,hebrews thefinestaleinCryliss!Whatare

you doing with these damnfools,Wensyl?”Wensyl, a Verenthane

noble,lookeduncomfortable.“Have you nothing to say

for yourself?” Kumarynshouted at Sasha. “Will younotsparethelivesofyourso-called friends? Or shall youhide behind them like acoward?”“IamavillagerofBaerlyn,

Lord Kumaryn,” Sashareplied calmly. “I obey my

village council, like anyvillager.Shouldtheywishmetoleavewithyou,Iwoulddoso. However, I've heardoppositesentimentputtome,verystrongly.”Sheshrugged.“It'soutofmyhands.”A Goeren-yai man jostled

his horse to the fore ofKumaryn's party. “I've heardenough!” he announced. Hewore the good clothes of awealthycityman,yethisbaldhead wore long hair at the

back and his ears wereadorned with rings. “This isthe stupidest excuse toslaughteranentirevillageI'veyet heard! If there's fighting,I'montheirside!”He nudged heels to his

horse and rode through theBaerlyn lines to raucouscheers, yells and raisedblades.“AnadrysDenaryn!”yelled

a noble at Kumaryn's side,levellingabladeathim.“You

areatraitortoyourlord!”But more Goeren-yai city

men were pushing down thecolumn and crossing into theBaerlyn lines, some wavingcheerfully to their newfriends as they came. Jeersand catcalls accompanied thecheering as Kumaryn, hisnoble friends and officersfumed.“I said I'd come to help in

the fight!” the man namedAnadrys yelled back at

Kumaryn across the gap. “Ididn'tsayonwhichside!”“Come on, Wensyl!” the

manwho had shouted out tohimbeforewasyellingabovethenoise.“Theman'sanass!You don't want to fight forhim.Comeoverthisside!”“He's Great Lord of

Valhanan!”Wensylprotested,almostapologetically.“So what? Does he own

yourhonour,ordoyou!”Wensyl grimaced, rode

acrosstothemaninquestionand dismounted. Kumaryn'scomrades yelled at him tocome back, but Wensyl wasnow engaged in a heateddebate with his Baerlynfriend and several others. Apair of Baerlyn menapproached Kumaryn, whosecompanions raised weaponsinthreat,butaBlackWolvessergeant intervened, and thatbegananewargument.Moremen crossed the line,

weapons gesticulatingdangerously, and suddenlythe grim face-off haddegenerated into a milling,chaotic debate betweensometime friends, tradingpartners and tournamentcontestants, as men foundothers they knew on bothsides.Sasha found herself

grinning. It was approachinga farce. She knew what thelowlanderswould say if they

could see this. “Lenayrabble.” Ill-disciplined,chaotic and leaderless.Uncivilised. Barbarian. Allwerequitepossiblytrue.AndSasha had rarely felt anymore proud of the fact thantoday.Some dried horse manure

sailed dangerously close toKumaryn's head, but it wasimpossible to tell who'dthrown it. Sasha sawGeldonclimbontoanadjoiningfence

and call to someone in thecolumn he recognised,followed by handshakes andgreetings—Geldon suppliedbread to Cryliss and boughtgrain from them, Sashaguessed this was one of hispartners. Anadrys and theotherGoeren-yaiwho'dcomeover were calling toVerenthanefriendsstillinthecolumn, someof them in theBlackWolves.The men of the Black

Wolves now appearedconfused, looking to theirlord for direction. Theirdisquiet was obvious—suchcompanies had been used bylord or king to hit rebelliousvillages before, but this wasdifferent. No Lenay manliked to be seen as another'svassal.NoLenaywarriorwasobliged to follow adishonourable command,whatever their oaths. Somemoremanureactuallyhitone

of Kumaryn's nobles.Kumaryn signalled furiouslyforawithdrawalandthelongcolumnbeganaslowreverse,leavingmanyoftheirnumberbehindtocontinuethedebate.“Somuch for that,” Sasha

said cheerfully to Kessligh,watching them leave.Kumaryn now seemed infurious argument with theBlackWolves captain. If theWolves refused to fight, thatwastheendofit.

“Nothing to be pleasedabout,”Kessligh said grimly.“The nobility becomesambitious. They're flexingtheir muscles, demonstratingtheirpowertotheking.”“And failing,” Sasha

retorted, steadying Peg'simpatient head toss. “There'snot enough of them inValhanan, just the big townsand Cryliss. Rural folkoutnumber them by a lot,their power is less than they

think.”Jaegar and Teriyan came

back to Sasha and Kessligh,who dismounted to meetthem. A councilman fromYule joined them—Tarynt, asmall,oldermanwithabushybeardthattrieddesperatelytomake him look larger, andfailed.“Thank you for that,”

Sasha said, knowing as shespokethatitwasunnecessary.“I'mgrateful.”

“Would have done it evenif you were guilty,” Jaegarsaidwith a shrug, swiping ata fly. “He's got no right, andhe knows it. We let him dothis, it's a whole slipperyslopefromthere.He'llnotgeta warrior nor a horse nor amangychickenfromus.”“Justwhendidthelordsof

Valhanan start fighting theTyree nobility's wars?”Taryntaskedwithconcern.Jaegar took a swig of his

small water skin and spat.“Kumaryn overreached thistime. He was never verybright.Hopefullyhe'llgetthemessagenow.”“He wasn't sending a

message to the villages,”Kessligh said grimly. “Hewassendingamessagetotheking. They all were. They'vehadatasteofpowernowandtheywantmore.”“Aye,” said Teriyan, “it's

the grand crusade to civilise

Lenayin. First it's thelowlandsgods, then it's land-owning lords, peasants andfeudingarmies,andsoononeday no one will rememberwhat it ever meant to beGoeren-yaiandfree.”Teriyanwasalwaystheeducatedone,Sashareflected.Theonewhoknew far more than hiswisecracks and bragging leton.“Over my dead body,”

Jaegarsaidsimply.

“Alloftheirstoo,”Teriyanagreed.“Did you kill this…this

lieutenant person?” Taryntasked Sasha curiously. Themen of Yule had rushed tohelp at a moment's notice.Evidently they had not heardall the circumstances whentheycame.“Lieutenant Reynan?” said

Sasha. “No. It was JarydNyvar.Reynanwas trying tokill me from behind. Jaryd

savedmylife.”“Nyvar!”Taryntpursedhis

lips into a whistle. Evenvillage Goeren-yai knew andrespected that name.Tournaments were notcombat…but then, it was farmore to respect a man forsuccess in tournaments thansuccess in titles or wealth.“Spirits,that'samess.Isn'thearelation,or…?”“Of Reynan, aye,” said

Jaegar, nodding. “No doubt

somequickwitsawachanceto pin it on Sasha beforeanyone could say otherwise.Perhaps they reckon Jarydwill comply and deny it washim.”“Aye, his papa will twist

his arm to that,” Teriyanagreed.“They lack numbers, but

thelordlyclassesmakeupforit in unity,” Kessligh saidgrimly. “Goeren-yai disunity,now, they're relyingon.Why

aren't Sedyn or Dayenvillages here? They're closerthanYule.”“Small matter of ancient

bloodfeud with Sedyn,” saidJaegar uncomfortably,glancing over his shoulder.TheCryliss columnappearedto be forming a line on theupper slopes near the trees,but there was nothing oforderliness about it.“Dayen…well, they're nearerCrylissthanweare.Plentyof

folkmake goodmoney fromthe wealthy families, don'twanttoupsetthemmuch.”“Makessense,”Taryntsaid

cheerfully. “Us in Yule,we've not a bean betweenus!”Hecackled.Kessligh, Sasha saw, was

looking straight at her. Sheknew that look. “What?” shebristled.“They want you dead,

Sasha,” he said flatly. “Theyneed theGoeren-yai divided,

as Goeren-yai always are.They want to make Lenayininto a model of lowlandscivilisation, with vastlyincreased powers, lands andwealth for themselves.Todothat, they wish all obstaclesremoved. They think LordKrayliss might unify theGoeren-yai,sotheywanthimdead. And now there's you,withalltherumours…”“Bugger the rumours!”

Sasha said hotly. “I'm not

doing anything! I'm just…here!”“Exactly. They'd like you

elsewhere.”“And you'd oblige them?”

she asked incredulously.“Send me running off toPetrodor with you like acoward because some fancy-dressnoblethreatenedme?”Jaegar and Tarynt looked

uncomfortable, as in themanner of men who'dstumbledintoaprivatefamily

spat. Teriyan watchedcuriously.“No,”Kesslighsaidtightly,

withasdarkascowlasSashahadeverseen.“Thechoiceisyours.It'salwaysbeenyours.Gogetyourselfkilled,Iwon'tstop you.” He strode andleapedintoTerjellyn'ssaddle,spurring hisway through theBaerlyn line and up the roadin the wake of the retreatingcolumn.“He's impossible,” Sasha

muttered,handsonhips.Teriyan opened his mouth

toremark,butJaegarcuthimoff.“He'srightaboutitbeingdangerous for you, Sasha.With a war coming, theVerenthanes think their timehas come.Your fathermightwish to protect you, but nopower inLenayin is absolute—it's agreatbalancingact—andifthelordsallfindyouamenace, even King Torvaalcan't protect you. Today is

justthefirststrikeofmany.”All because the stupid

Larosa in far-away Bacoshcouldn't stand to live side byside with the serrin. A dullpanicsettledinSasha'sgut.Itwasn't fair. Baerlyn was herhome. It scared her, all thistalkofleaving.ShelookedatJaegar desperately. AtTeriyan, taller, and with aconcernedfrown.“What do you think I

shoulddo?”sheaskedthem.

Jaegar sighed andscratched at his scalp. “I canonly really give you counselwhere the affairs of Baerlynareconcerned,Sasha. It'snotmy place to be givinginstructions to the king'sdaughter…”“I'm not asking for

instructions,damnit!Just…”she turned away inexasperation, “just a littleadvice! I can't ask Kessligh,he'sstubbornasamuleforall

theNasi-Keth's talk of open-mindedness—he either tellsmewhatIdon'twanttohear,or tells me an uman can'tdictatetheuma'spath.”“You areNasi-Keth, aren't

you?”Jaegarasked.Sasha felt uncertain. She

shouldn't,sheknew.Kesslighhad devoted twelve years ofhis life to her. But now, heaskedforthingsfromherthatshe did not know if shewasprepared to give. “Yes,” she

saidquietly.Jaegar shrugged, broadly.

“We are Goeren-yai, Sasha.We believe in following apath. Your path is with theNasi-Keth. Perhaps youshouldgowithyouruman.”Sasha stared at him. “And

abandontheGoeren-yai?”“Are you our saviour?”

Jaegar asked, with aneyebrowraised.Sasha blinked. “I never

said…I mean, I never

thought…”“Thenwhystay?”“Youdon'twantmeto?”A

lump threatened to grow inherthroat.Jaegar sighed. “It's not

about what I want, Sasha. Iam headman. I am alsoumchyl, the spirit talker. Ihelp to find the path desiredby the spirits. Especially inthe young in the Wakeningceremony and beyond. Thepath does not care what I

want. The path is yours, andonly you can decide if youshalltakeit.”“I care!” Sasha protested.

“Ifyoudon'tthinkIcanhelp,if you don't think I'll bringany more than just trouble,thenI'llleave!Idon'twanttobringthosebastardsdownonBaerlyn again, I just wishsomeonewould…wouldhavethe balls to tell me…to tellme…” She gave up inexasperation and turned to

leave before the buildingdesperate emotion escapedhercontrol.Teriyan caught her arm,

hard. “I'll tell you,” he saidfirmly. “I don't claim to besome spirit-talking wisemanlikemyfriendhere…”Jaegarsmiled, faintly. “But I thinkyou should stay. This, thisnonsense…”hewavedahandtoward the disorganisedrabble of Cryliss warriorsacross the upper slopes, “…

it's been coming for ahundredyears.Nooffence toyour great-grandfather,Sasha, but let's be honest—King Soros was raised aTorovan, he'd barely knownLenayin.Hedidagreatthingridding us of the Cherrovan,but he had no real ideawhatto do with Lenayin itselfexcepttotryandremakeitintheimageofthelowlands.“So he turns all his most

loyalchieftainsandclansinto

noble families as reward forservice, but only thendiscovers theGoeren-yai andthevillageswon'tstandforit,sohewatersdownthenobles’powers to avoid civil war.The nobility bought it thenbecauseitseemedbetter thannothing, and they thoughtthey'd try to increase theirpowers by stealth…but acentury later and they'regrowing impatient. KingSoros promised them they'd

be full-fledged noble lordslike in theBacosh, not limp-dickpuppets.“We can't let them win,

Sasha. You matter to theGoeren-yai. Damn it,Kumaryn's right to worryaboutyou,farmorethanheisto worry about that buffoonKrayliss. Of all the royalchildren of Baen-Tar, you'rethe first who truly loved theGoeren-yai. Itmeans a lot topeople,Sasha.”

“The second,” Sasha saidquietly. “Krystoff loved theGoeren-yaitoo.”“Aye,thathedid,”Teriyan

agreed. “But Prince Krystofflived in Baen-Tar and onlyknewusassoldiersheservedwith and servant girlsworking in the palace. Youlive here. The spirits arebound to the land, Sasha.They live in the rocks in thehills, and the trees of theforest, and the dirt beneath

your feet. You're the first ofall Lenay royalty to be here,and to feel it. I'mnot itchingto lead somedamn rebellion,Sasha…but damn it, youknow what the stakes are inthis.Weneedallthehelpwecan get. And if men getdesperate enough thatKrayliss looks like the onlyalternative…then spirits saveus.”Tears prickled in Sasha's

eyes.Shetookadeepbreath,

pig-smelling air and all.“Thank you,” she said. “I'llhelp. I have to talk to myfather. Once upon a time,men say he used to listen toreason.Perhapshestillwill.”“That damn Archbishop

Dalryn jerks your father'sstrings now,” Taryntmuttered. “Himandyour bigbrotherKoenyg.”“Thenwe'lljusthavetosee

what we can do about that,”Sasha replied, with firming

resolve.“Shan'twe?”

SOFY STOOD AT THE EDGE ofthe stable's mustering yard,watchingthemillingchaosofhorses and soldiers in theblazingtorchlight,asfrenziedshadows splashed acrossneighbouring buildings andthe towering innerstonewallofBaen-TarCity.Anysewas

at her side, trying to hold aspare cloak over herprincess's head and ward offthe light, chill rain. Sofyrecognised Damon,surrounded by RoyalGuardsmen, their gold andred distinct amidst the greenoftheFalconGuard.As he dismounted,

stablehands rushing to takehishorse,shecaughtsightofa second group of verydifferent riders. They wore

thedarkskinsandleathersofthe Goeren-yai, their hairlong and wild, some withringsintheirearsthatglintedin the torchlight. The bannercarriedbyonewastheironlyidentification—green withthree diagonal black stripes.Taneryn. One man inparticular was giving orders—a huge man in a big furcoat with a bushy beard tomatch.Anyse's arms were clearly

tiring. “Oh Anyse,” Sofyscolded her, “it's barelyraining!”“YourHighnesswill catch

a chill,” Anyse saidstubbornly.“You're getting wet, you

should be more worried foryourself.”“Goeren-yai don't catch

chills,”Anyse replied. “Onlystubborn princesses whoshould havemore sense thanto venture out on stormy

nights.”Then Damon was

approaching, his mud-spattered boots splashing inpuddles. In his full colours,armour and sword, Sofybarely recognised him…untilhe pulled off his helm,revealingafacetiredandwetwith rain, his dark hairplastered flat to his head.Hesaw Sofy and managed awearysmile.Sofy refrained with

difficulty from hugging him,settling instead for a sisterlykiss on both his cheeks.“Walkwithme,”he toldher.“ImustpresentLordKraylissimmediately to father. Nodoubt there are things to besaid.”“Lord Krayliss!” Sofy

gasped, hurrying to walk athis side. “So that's who thatbigmanwiththebeardis!”Anyse gave up trying to

cover Sofy's head, walking

insteadatherheelsalongsideaRoyalGuardsmanwhotookDamon'shelmforhim.“What happened?” Sofy

asked Damon as theyfollowed the torchbearerstoward Soros Square. “WhyisKraylisshere?Didhecomewillingly?Ihaven'tbeenabletodiscovera thing lately; it'sbeensofrustrating!”Damon smiled faintly.

“Sasha fought a duel againstFarys Varan, son of Udys

Varan.”Sofy staredathim,aghast.

“Aduel!Isshe…?”“Our sister is well,”

Damon pronounced, withmorethananedgeoftension.“Farysisnot.”Sofyclaspedahandtoherchestwithagaspofrelief.“Kraylissapparentlytook this as a sign from thespirits…one in particular hecalled the Synnich. He nowclaimsSashaisguidedbytheSynnich and has placed

himself under the protectionof her word. Otherwise, I'msureheandLordUsynwouldbe fighting to the death rightaboutnow.”“A duel!” Sofy exclaimed

once more, in disbelief. Pastthat announcement, she'dheardvery littleDamonsaid.“What was Sasha doingfightingaduel?Yousworetomeyou'dlookafterher!”“Sofy,” said her brother

with exasperation, “one does

not ‘look after’ Sasha, anymore thanone‘looksafter’awild animal. She does whatshedoes,and thebestany inher vicinity can hope is toremainaliveattheendofit.”And to Sofy's continuing,accusatory stare, he added,“Farys insulted Krystoff'smemory. It was calculated,I'msurehiseldersputhimuptoit.”“Oh dear lords,” Sofy

exclaimed. And shook her

head in despair. “Old familyhistory. I swear nothingcauses more catastrophes inthiskingdom thanold familyhistory.Shallweeverbefreeofit?”“Twelve years is not old

history, Sofy,” Damon saidsombrely. “I rememberKrystoffwell.”Sofygazedathim. He seemed moreserious,somehow,thanwhenhe had left. More adult. Thelookinhiseyeswasthelook

of a young man concernedwith matters far greater thanhimself. Prior to this ride,therehadnotbeensomanyofthose.“Whatisit,Damon?”Sofy

asked him. “What happenedoutthere?”Damon sighed and shook

his head. “I'll tell you later,”hesaid.The road opened onto

SorosSquare, a vast expanseofstonepavingcentredbythe

Verenthane Angel of Mercy.On the leftwere grand stonebuildings fronting the squarewith ornate facades, pillars,arches and windows. To theright, the great front gate,open to the traffic of earlyevening and surrounded bymany guards who warmedthemselves near the blazingfiresbeyondthewall.“Sasha sends her love,”

Damonadded.“She is coming to

Rathynal?”Sofyasked.“She'dbetter,”Damonsaid

darkly.“Kraylisswillmakeafussifshedoesn't.”“AndKessligh?”“Thatwastheimpression.”

Sofywas glad to hear that…and yet nervous, too. Therewereprobablyonlythreemenshe'dknowninherlifewhomshe'd never been able tocharm: Her father, Koenygand Yuan KesslighCronenverdt.HelovedSasha,

thatwas clear to her, even ifSasha was sometimesuncertain, and therelationship they shared wasutterly remarkable in itsunlikeliness. And yet,somehow,whenhe lookedatSofy, she felt it was as if hesaw straight through her andwasconsideringthetextureofherbones.“Oh well,” she sighed,

trying to get her thoughtsback into order. “More

people. I swear I'll go crazytryingtorememberthemall.”“I doubt Kessligh will be

attending the events you'reorganising,” Damonreassuredher.“No?” Sofy said, with a

sudden, humorousinspiration.“You'recertainhewouldn'tlikeaformaldance?Perhaps a tour of theartworks? Or maybe someflower arrangements?Arrangements are all the

fashion in Petrodor now, it'sbecomingquiteanart.”“I'm sure all the important

people will have far moreimportant matters to attendto,” Damon retorted. Sofyscowled at that. “ParticularlyKessligh.”“Not true!” said Sofy,

skipping sideways to jab adelighted finger at him.“Kessligh loves gardening,Sasha's toldme all about hispreciousvegetablepatch!She

says he even grows ythalaflowers in rows between thevegetables because they'regoodforthesoil!”Damon sighed and swiped

at his flattened hair, now alittle damp in the light rain.“Nasi-Keth are strange,” hesaid with a shrug. “I knowSashadoesn'thavemuchtimeforflowerarrangements.”“I don't know about that!

Sashalovesallwildthings.”“Exactly. She wouldn't

understand why you need tocut its head off to make itlook pretty. And I'd agreewithher.”“Well,atleastitwasn'tthe

two of you who fought theduel,” Sofy said with ameaningfulsidewayslook.“Itsounds like you have finallybecome at least civil witheach other.” Damon noddedglumly, but his attentionwaswandering. They passed thesquare's central statue, the

angel's wings andoutstretched arms making aghostly silhouette against thegloomy sky. Ahead, thespiresoftheSaintAmbellionTemplesoaredintothenight.“Damon,what'swrong?Whyareyousobrooding?”Damon's jaw tightened as

he walked. “I sent a scoutfrom the Falcon Guard tofollow the Hadryn,” he saidin a low voice. “Severalscouts, actually. They

volunteered. I was worriedourwiseLordUsynmightdosomethingstupid.”“Like?”“Attack the Udalyn,”

Damon said grimly. “Everybit of Goeren-yai trouble theHadryn get from Krayliss,they conveniently blame onthe Udalyn. It's as good anexcuse as they've had indecades. And with father'smind as it is lately, I don'tknowifhe'llstopthem.”

Sofy did not pretend tounderstand everything aboutthose old troubles…exceptthattheHadrynhadwantedtodestroytheUdalynsincelongbeforetherewaseveraLenayking. But she did understandsome of Damon'sresponsibilities on rides totroublesome provincesbeneath the king's banner.“Are you allowed to sendscouts across the Hadrynborder?”sheaskedanxiously.

“They're scouts,” Damonsaid shortly. “Wild men ofLenayin.Theygowheretheyplease…and, like I said, theyvolunteered.”Sofy guessed that the

answer to her question,therefore,was“no.”Shegaveherbrothera long,misgivinglook.“Ihopeyouknowwhatyou're doing,” she saidquietly.Damonsighed.“Metoo.”The procession passed the

wide steps leading up to thedoorsofthegreattemple.TheRoyal Palace loomedopposite, its many tallwindows ablaze with light,guardswaitingatthedoorstothe Grand Hall entrance.They crossed the road fromthe temple to the palace andclimbed the wet stairs,Damon recallinghismannersto offer an arm to his sister,approachingthosedoors.Through the grand foyer,

with tile-patterned floors andbusts of family-long-dead,thenintothehallproper.Theceilingarchedhighoverhead,beneathwhichfourenormouschandeliers hung suspendedalong the hall's length. Theprocession's footsteps echoedin the vast space.Groundsmen extinguishedtheir torches and departed,replaced by the senior hallmaster of the hour, leadingthewaywithbrownrobesand

a formal stride. Largepaintings and tapestrieslooked down from the highwalls. Ahead, servantsscurried, preparing to openthedoorstothethronehall.“Areyou invited?”Damon

asked, as Sofy showed nosignofstopping.“Assuredly,” Sofy said

sweetly.And itwasDamon'sturn to fix her with a waryglance. A princess at theking's formal business?

Surely not. But Damon saidnothing.The servants hauled the

doors open with a squeal ofweight-bearing hinges.Damon and Sofy walked thethronehall together, itsmanytall columns forming a rowdownthecentralaisletowardtheraiseddaisanditsthrone.Along that length, manyRoyal Guards stood toattention…and Sofywondered if it were merely

her imagination, or whetherthose guards truly were asattentive and edgy as theyappeared. Certainly therewere a lot of them and theirhands seemed uncommonlynear their weapons, restingupon the hilt of a sword orwith thumbs tucked into abelt.The king stood at the foot

ofthethree-stepdais,incloseconversation with Koenygand Father Dalryn—the

Archbishop of Lenayin. Theking wore his customaryformal black robes withgolden trim. Koenyg woresimilar, only with a greaterprominence of leather as onemight expect of a Lenaywarrior. All looked up atDamon and Sofy's approach,andtheprocessionthattrailedthem.At the last moment, Sofy

disengagedDamon'sarmandstood demurely to one side.

Koenyg did likewise, givingher a displeased, “What areyou doing here?” stare thatSofyignored.Thekingtookapace forward and extendedhis black-gloved hand.Damondropped to oneknee,took the hand and kissed it.Thenstoodandembracedhisfather, to one side and thenthe other. From the sides ofthedais,andfrombehindtherows of columns and guards,well-dressed nobility looked

on, their expressions bothgrim and anxious. LordKrayliss was not the first ofthe provincial lords to arriveinBaen-TarforRathynal,andBaen-Tar was becomingcrowdedwithimportantlordsand ladies from all overLenayin.“My son,” said King

Torvaal, his hands onDamon's shoulders.His face,with its dark, close-trimmedbeard, remainedas impassive

as his formal black robes.Verenthane black, like thoseofthearchbishop.Thecolourof purity. “News precedesyou of a crisis averted atHalleryn. Yet details arelacking.”“Aye, my Lord,” said

Damon.His expression,Sofysaw, was guarded. He rarelyworethatexpressionwithher.Shewouldspotitandsuspecthim of concealment. Shewondered if their father

would.No,shedecidedsadly,that was unlikely. ButKoenyg might. “LordKrayliss has cast himselfupon your justice, and hasaccompaniedmetoBaen-Tar.Heawaitsyouraudienceevennow.”A crease divided King

Torvaal'sdarkbrows,eversofaintly. “And how did thiscometopass?”Damon explained. Torvaal

listened,with the same faint,

dark frown. Sofy felt herheartbeatingfaster.“The girl had no right to

submit to those demands onmy behalf,” Torvaal saidwhen Damon had finished.Histonewasfirm,yetdevoidofobviousemotion.Asusual.“She serves the Nasi-Keth.Her privileges as a daughterof Lenayin were renouncedtwelveyearsago.Thekingisnotboundbyherword.”Damon's jaw seemed to

tighten, just a little. “Shesaved lives, my Lord,” hereplied. “Lord Kraylissadmitted to killing LordRashyd,thoughheclaimsjustcause. As such, his was thewrong deed under the king'slaw, and Lord Usyn Telgarwas merely reacting to thatwrong deed. Lord Kraylissdefied my original demandthathesubmittoyourjustice.To enforce your law, myLord, I saw that I had two

options—to join with theHadryn armies and defeathim by force of arms, or toagree to the terms providedby M'Lady Sashandra. Anassault would have costhundreds of lives on bothsides, and perhaps sparked abroader conflict betweenTaneryn and Hadryn thatcould have cost thousands. Ideemed the second optionmore sensible…with yourblessing,myLord.”

Koenyg, Sofy saw,appeared somewhat annoyed,althoughhehiditwell.Theirfather's expression remainedunchanged.Heconsideredhisson with thoughtful darkeyes,withinafacethatmighthavebeenhandsomeifithadjust once shown the faintesthint of levity. And thatthoughtgaveSofya familiar,melancholysadness.Torvaal nodded. “You did

well, my son,” he said, and

Damon seemed to relax alittle. “I will see LordKraylissnow.”Koenygmade a gesture to

the guards at the end of thehall and, once again, thedoors squealed slowly open.Damon and Sofy moved toKoenyg's side as Torvaalascended the three steps andsat in the simple, wood-carved throne. At the hall'send, a new processionappeared. Thesemen did not

walkwiththerefinementanddignity of Verenthanenobility. They swaggered,with heavy, muscular steps,swordsswingingagainsttheirlegs.Theirhairwaslong,tiedwith apparently randombraids. Gold glinted aroundnecks and along ears and,despite the uniform glow ofmany lamps, it seemedsomehow that the light onlycame from their right, for allthe men's left profiles

appeared cast dark intoshadow.Attheirheadstrodeahuge

bear of a man, abristle withwild hair and beard, and aswordsoenormousitsleatherbinder squealed as it swungfrom his belt. His girth wasgreater than two Damons,Sofy reckoned withamazement, and Damon wasa skinny lad no longer. Hisclothes were all leathers andskins, and his boots were

patterned with intricate,beautiful stitching. Onlywhen he and his men drewcloser could Sofy see theequally intricate tattoosacross the left side of theirfaces.NotallGoeren-yaimenwore the tattoos, Sasha hadtold her. Those who didbegan toadd the first strandsafter the Wakening, theGoeren-yai ceremony ofmanhood.The Taneryn contingent

haltedbeforethedais,staringabout them insolently. Therewere perhaps twenty men inall, Sofy reckoned. Sherealised then why the guardshadseemedonedge.Disquietspread throughout the hall, adisbelieving, angry murmur.It grew louder when LordKrayliss took a step forwardandstareddirectlyatthekingwithnosignofobeisance.“Kneel before the king!”

Koenyg demanded. King

Torvaal's expressionremained impassive.Krayliss's stare turned toKoenyg…Two dark, burningeyes within a bristling massofdarkhair.Thefurcoatoverhis huge shoulders added tothe bear-like effect. To theright side of his face lay along, winding braid,composed of three separatestrandsboundtogether.“Ha!”Kraylisslaughed,his

voice like a heavy drum at

festival. “The king's heirdefends his father's honour!”Withinthatmassofbeard,hislips appeared to twist inhumour. “That is good!Honourshouldbedefendedatall costs! Only know this,king's heir—not all men ofLenayin follow the path ofhonourquitesorigorouslyasothers.”Lord Krayliss knelt before

the dais, and his contingentdid likewise. His eyes,

however, did not lower.Around him, the angrymurmuring continued. Sofyfound herself wondering athisaccent—itwasnotunlikethe northern accents she hadheard, from men of Hadryn,Banneryd and Ranash. InLenayin, one could neveravoid the question oflanguages when determininga man's loyalties. Some saidthat the sooner all peoplesabandoned their mother

tongues and spoke onlyLenay, the better. But whatwould that cost thekingdom,to lose so much of theirancient ways forever? Menlike Krayliss would neverstand for it. And, quitepossibly, women like Sashatoo.“Lord Krayliss,” said the

king from his throne. Sofynoted Duke Stefhan andseveral of his Larosacontingent watching from

between the columns. Shewondered what they wouldmake of this very Lenayscene. “My son informs methatyouhaveriddentoBaen-Tar to place yourself withintheprotection,andthejustice,of the king's law. Is thiscorrect?”“No,” Krayliss said

proudly, looking his kingfirmly in the eye. Anotherangry muttering from thecrowd. “I am here on behalf

of my people. The ancientpeople, the last of the trueLenays.Itiswewhoarehereto judge your law, KingTorvaal. We shall judge itandweshallseeifwefinditworthy.”The king raised a hand to

forestall the angry wordsfrom the crowd. His mannerwas calm. “And whatexpectations do you hold,Lord Krayliss, of myjustice?”

Krayliss smiled a dark,unpleasant smile. “We inTaneryn have had a hundredyears experience of theVerenthane kings, KingTorvaal. A hundred years ofHadryn attacks. A hundredyears of Verenthane croniesand sycophants raised to thenobility of every lordship ofLenayin, tothepointwhereIstand before you as the lastremaining Goeren-yaichieftain in Lenayin. I shan't

hold my breath for yourjustice.”“If you have not cast

yourself upon the king'sjustice,” Koenyg said loudlyfrom Damon's side, “thenLordUsynTelgar'sclaimsofvengeancestillstand.Areyouwithintheking'sjustice,LordKrayliss,orareyounot?”“Aye, you'd like that,

wouldn't you?” Kraylissgrowled at Koenyg. “Anoutright invasion of Taneryn

bythebloody-handedHadrynto remove this mischievousLord Krayliss once and forall? Behold, the heir PrinceKoenyg! Not as talented asthe great, departed PrinceKrystoff, nor half as pretty Imight add, but a great friendto theGoeren-yaiofLenayinishe!”Hismenlaughedwithraucous, ugly humour.Koenygfumed.“Marchusallofftokillserrinbabiesinthelowlands,hewould!Makeus

abandon our farms and ourfamilies for a good year ormore so the Cherrovan cancomeraidingand theHadryncanrapeourwomenandstealourlivestockwithnoneofusheretodoadamnthingaboutit!”“That'senoughfromyou!”

shouted one noble from thecrowd, as others yelled theirdisapproval,andsuddenlytheguards were more concernedwithcontaining theobservers

than guarding the Taneryn.“Respect the king!” shoutedanother. Krayliss stoodunmoved before the dais andgazed proudly about at thecommotion he had caused.From his throne, Torvaalsimply watched. The noisebegan to die, but Kraylisswasn'tfinished.“Oh, you think I'm joking,

don'tyou?”heboomedtothehall at large, sweeping themwithhisshaggy-browedstare.

“YouthinkI'mjustgivingtheprince a jab or two? Thenwhatbythespiritsishedoinghere?” Krayliss levelled athick finger atDukeStefhan.“Yes, you, you perfumed,limp-wristedwystych!”Sofy'seyeswidened.Sasha

had told her that word—itwascommontooldValhananLereisuchaswasstillspokenin the valleys near Baerlynand to theTaasti languageofTaneryn.Itmeantsexualself-

gratification, Sasha had said.Between friends, it was ajoke. In the royal courts ofBaen-Tar, it was dangerousprovocation.“Behold,” Krayliss

continuedwith glee, “a dukeofLarosa—themostdefeatedBacosh province of the lasttwo centuries! The greatestlosers inallBacoshhistory!”At theduke's side, severalofhis men looked on withpuzzledconcern.Those,Sofy

reckoned,couldnotpenetrateKrayliss's thick accent…andjustaswell.Thedukesimplystared, dark and cautiousbeneath his fringe of curls.“Here in Baen-Tar forRathynal! Fancy that!Recruiting willing fodder foryour armies, are you,MasterDuke?Pleasetellusall,whatis the good Prince Koenyg'sgoing price for the life of apoorGoeren-yai farmer thesedays? Three pieces of

copper?Four?“We in the provinces are

not stupid.Weknow that theking's favourhasswungwitheach heir. Prince Krystofftrained to be Nasi-Keth andloved theGoeren-yai, and sowhile he lived the king didalso…until of course thenorthernersconspiredtohavePrince Krystoff killed incombat with the Cherrovan.All so that the good, devout,Verenthane Prince Koenyg

could take his place! Andnow they get their reward!Don'tthey,MasterKoenyg?”Deathlysilence.Sofycould

hear the shock. Could feel itemanating from the verystones. She had expectedanotheruproar,but therewasnothing. The typical Lenayresponse to such dastardlyaccusations was anger. Butthis…this feltmore like fear.Was that it? Were all theseVerenthane nobles actually

scared of LordKrayliss nowthat he had vastly,enormously overstepped themark of no return? Or werethey only scared of what hecouldunleashuponthem,andupon the entire kingdom?Sasha had said often that theGoeren-yai would neverfollow him…but what if shewaswrong?Sofy found herself staring

at a Royal Guardsmanstanding alongside Duke

Stefhan, his eyes wary, ahandonthehiltofhissword.That man, too, wore thetattooson the left sideof hisface and long, braided hairspilled from beneath hisgleaminghelm.Sodidnearlyhalf the Royal Guard. Whatwould happen to all thepowerfulpeople in this roomif the Goeren-yai rose up inopen rebellion? If the RoyalGuard were split down thecentre? If all the provincial

armiesdividedalongthelinesoftheirfaith?Suddenly, she could feel

the fear herself. Sasha hadsaid this, too. Had said howcrazyitwasfortheretobesofew Goeren-yai left in theseats of power. Surely therewas need for a calming,moderate voice to counterLordKrayliss's provocations.But who? Aside fromKrayliss, there were noGoeren-yai leaders left. The

trappings of noble powerwere tooVerenthane, and fartoo foreign, for the Goeren-yai's liking. It wasn't thelifestyle that they knew, orwanted.Suddenly, Sofy realised

what it was that Sasha hadfound so frustrating all theseyears. The Verenthanenobility had taken advantageof the Goeren-yai's naive,rusticgoodfaith.Distributingalltheseatsofpowerbeneath

the new, central throneamongst like-mindedVerenthaneshadbeen simpleand convenient—theGoeren-yaihadnotcomplainedanditmeant that Verenthaneswould not have to deal withtheir rural cousins’exasperating, uncivilised,pagan traditions. It had beensoeasy,andsorational,atthetime. Only now, when thenormally disinterestedGoeren-yai showed the first

signs of real anger with thethrone in a century, did theprice of those actions comesharply into the light. Now,the Goeren-yai looked forleadership…and found onlyLordKrayliss.Deargods,Sofythoughtto

herself. No wonder many ofthe initially outragedVerenthane nobles nowlooked a little pale. Kraylisswas picking a fight. Now,they wondered if they dared

toaccept.“Lord Krayliss,” said the

king, into that silence. “Youhave ridden to Baen-Tar tosubmityourselftomyjustice.Yet you make graveaccusationsagainstthethroneand against the throne'sfriends. How are we tobelieve that your intentionsarejustasyousay?”“The king's justice has a

champion in the eyes of theGoeren-yai,” Krayliss

rumbled. “Her name isSashandra Lenayin. Heruman is perhaps the greatestwarrior Lenayin has everknown. In the eyes of mypeople, her uman's path wasguided by the great Synnich,the most powerful spirit ofthese lands. Now, we haveseen with our own eyes thatthe Synnich guides the pathof Sashandra Lenayin also. Isubmit to your justice, KingTorvaal,ontheconditionthat

Sashandra Lenayin shallattend the proceedings andshall speak only the truth onmybehalf.Itisonhercredit,inmy eyes, that your justicerests.NothingmoredoIask.”“Sashandra Lenayin,” said

the king, “bears neither ranknorprivilegewithintheking'slaw.”Sofy couldhave swornshe sawLordKrayliss's eyesgleam, ever so faintly, as ifsensing an opportunity.“But,” the king continued,

“forthepurposesofthatride,shewasbeneaththeauthorityofKesslighCronenverdt,whowas in turn beneath theauthority of my son Damon.Your claim is valid, LordKrayliss. When she arrives,Sashandra Lenayin shallspeakforyou.”“My king is wise,” said

Krayliss,withaslight,almostmocking bow of the head.“May my king sit upon thethrone formany,many years

tocome.”

Jaryd Nyvar entered hisfather'sguestchambersontheuppermost floorof theBaen-Tar palace and found all thelords of Tyree waiting forhim. Lord Redyk, of vastgirth and white whiskers,standing by the blazingfireplace with a cup of winein hand, as usual. Lord

Paramys,slim-shoulderedandpoker-straight,his longblackbeard almost reaching hisnavel. Lord Arastyn, towhose son Jaryd's youngersisterGalyndrywasduetobewed within the year—ahandsomemanwithabigjawandheavyfeatures,yetclevereyes. Jaryd's gaze settledupon Lord Tymeth Pelyn, awide, bald man with threechinsandill-fittingrobesthatstruggled yet failed to hide

his dimensions. LieutenantReynan Pelyn had been hisbrother. Lord Tymeth's eyesfixed upon the heir of Tyreeas he walked across theflagstone floor, unblinkingandunreadable.Therewerefifteen lords in

all, Jaryd counted, out oftwenty-three in all Tyree…but some were moreimportant than others, andpossibly not all had travelledto Baen-Tar for Rathynal. It

wasdisconcertingtohaveleftBaen-Tar in normality, withhisfamilyfaraway,andthento return three weeks laterand find all these grandfigures of Tyree nobilitygatheredandwaitingforhim.Jaryd's father sat on a chairbefore his bed, attired in acloak of Tyree velvet green.His thin facewas drawn andsweat beaded upon his pallidforehead. White hair hunglimp around his face and

therewasacupinhislistlesshand.Hiseyesbarelyseemedtoregisterhisson'sapproach.“Father,” said Jaryd, and

bent to embrace him, thenkissedhimonbothcheeks.Itwasshockingtorecallthathisfather had only forty-threesummers; Jaryd had seensixty-year-olds with greatervigour. The air was overlywarm and smelled sweet,almost sickly. “Yousummonedme.”

“My son,” said the GreatLord of Nyvar, his voicehoarse. “You return withLordKraylissincustody.”“You sound displeased,”

Jaryd observed. Wasn't thatjust like his father, todisparage every achievementwith which he was evenremotely involved? He hadledtheFalconGuard,Tyree'sfinestcompany, intobattle torestore the king's peace andhis father remained

unimpressed.“Youneedn'thavebrought

all of him back,” said LordRedyk,strokinghiswhiskers.“Justhishead,lad.”“It wasn't my decision,”

Jaryd said shortly. “PrinceDamonwasincommand.”“Oh aye,” said Lord

Paramys, his blue eyes cold.“And Kessligh Cronenverdtwas only along to pickflowers from the roadside.WhereisthegreatNasi-Keth,

anyhow?”“With his uma inBaerlyn,

I believe,” said Jaryd. Hehooked a hand into his beltnear the sword pommel, hisweather-stained cloak tossedback from one shoulder. Itmade him look good and heknewit.“Prince Koenyg erred in

sendingPrinceDamon,”LordRedyk growled in distaste.“He should have gonehimself. Prince Damon lacks

steel, no wonder he did notstanduptoCronenverdt.Nowthingsareworse.”“We rode to restore the

king's peace,” Jaryd repliedwith a frown. “Peace wasachieved, at a minimal cost,andnowGreatLordKraylissshall face the king's justice.How do you accuse PrinceDamonofanyfault?”Lord Redyk's expression

became faintly incredulous.“Any fault? Are you mad,

boy? At this Rathynal, wepush for power. For a fullhundred years since theLiberationwehavewaitedforthe king to grant us thepowers that King Sorospromised our forefathers, buthe has never seen sufficientreason to do so. Now, theking needs us for hislowlands war. He will grantuswhatwewant, or else hisconquering army shall becomprised of Royal Guards

andkitchenhands.“The great lords must

presentthekingwithaunitedface at this Rathynal todemandnoblerights…andyetyou bring Lord Krayliss, thevery face of disunity, backinto our midst? Are youmad?”That was twice that

rhetorical question had beenasked. Jaryd bristled. “Andthat'syouronlyconcernaboutLord Krayliss?” he asked

coldly. “What about theGoeren-yai?YouwanttokillthelastremainingGoeren-yaigreat lord, from the onlyprovinceinLenayinwithoutaruling Verenthane nobility,and you're notworried aboutthe anger it may cause theruralfolk?”“Pah!” LordRedykwaved

a dismissive hand. “Thepagans nearly came to blowsjust pitching their tentsoutside the Baen-Tar walls,

arguing over the best campsites. They're the last of ourconcerns—half of themwanttokillLordKraylissasmuchaswedo.“They won't mind him

dead,but theywillmindhimifheshamesthem!Youknowwhat the pagans are like,alwaysfallingovereachotherto make grand gestures ofheroism, waving their cocksfor all to see. Krayliss willdefyusinourdemandstothe

king, youwatch.He'll refusetopartakeinthelowlandswarand he'll shame the otherpagans into doing thesame…”“I disagree,” said Lord

Arastyn,mildly, fromJaryd'sother side. Jaryd suspectedthat Arastyn, unlike Redyk,was still on his first cup ofwine. In his other hand, heheld an ornatewarhorn—oneof the chambers’ decorativeartefacts. He had been

considering it, offhandedly,while theothers talked. “Thepaganswantwar.PerhapstheTaneryn do not, nor theeasterners,fortheserrinhavelong travelled to those partsand are admired there. Butthe west and the south havehadlesscontactandseelittleof Cherrovan incursions inthe north. These are warlikepeople, yet for a centurythere's been little but peace,save theusual, stupidhonour

squabbles between villages.Left alone, Goeren-yai willfight themselves. Those folkin the south andwestwant aglorious war to relive thetales of their ancestors. Andto them, Lord Krayliss is asmuch a foreigner as theserrin.”Jaryd knew that his father

thought highly of LordArastyn. It was one reasonwhy he'd promised Galyndryto his son. His family had

been loyal, too.Thatwas theotherreason.“The south and the west,

perhaps!” Lord Redykretorted.“ButTyreeisneithersouthnorwest,LordArastyn!Hellfire and floods take thesouthandwest,theoneplacewhereKrayliss does have aninfluence is right under ourbloody noses! And inValhanan, where that bloodyNasi-Keth and hiswild bitchhold sway, and in Taneryn

with Lord Krayliss himself!AndItellyou,insomeplacesthey may hate Kraylissenough to want to kill him,but if he stands up against alowlands war, then none ofthemwillsuffertobeseenasalapdogtoVerenthanelords.I know these people, I tellyou, and that's how theythink!”“If only our good friend

Great Lord Kumaryn wouldhave had the balls to move

against Cronenverdt and hisbitch earlier,” Lord Paramysmuttered. “If she joins withLordKrayliss,thenthere'llbetrouble.Didyouhearhimcallher the Synnich? What thehellsisaSynnich,anyhow?”Jaryd listened to them

argue, but his thoughts werewandering.Hethoughtofthegirl,withhershorthair,livelyeyes and, it could not bedenied, firm buttocks. Asprettyashersisters,whenone

learned to disregard theunwomanlypresentation.Andcrazy as a feveredmule.Butthen,whoamongstthesemenpresent,whocalledhernamesandwished for her downfall,couldmatchherwithaswordoronahorse?Jaryd Nyvar did not know

much about a lot of things,but he knew honour. Hisfather thought him asimpleton, and had oftenwondered aloud what he'd

donetosodispleasethegodsthat they would give him adunce for an heir. Jaryd hadnever excelled in studies.Written words still troubledhim, and numbers moreso.AnheirtotheGreatLordshipof Tyree would need suchskills, he was often told. Hewas clever with a sword, agenius on a horse, and hadsurprised even himself withhisgiftsasanartist.Thelatterskill he'd been too

embarrassed to practise, lesttheothernobleboys laughatsuchgirlishpursuits…buthistutors had noticed. He wasobviously intelligent, theysaid. He was just lazy. Hewas not applying himselfhardenough.Hisheadwassofullofhorses,swordworkandprettygirlsthathehadlostallsenseofpriorities.He'd become so tired of

hearingthoseaccusationsthathe'ddecidedhemightaswell

make them true.At least thatwayhe'dhavealittlefun.He'd discovered soon

enough that the commonfolkdidn't care whether he couldreciteTorovanpoetsormakesense of the taxman's books.To them, he was a hero,somethinghe'denjoyedvastlymore than being a dunce.Nobleboysweremorewary,awareofhisfather'sconcerns,which were therefore alsotheir fathers’ concerns.Some

ofthemhadteasedhimabouthislackofscholarlyskill,forwhich Jaryd had mercilesslytormented them in thepracticeyardoronthelagandfield. They hadn't liked that,but Jaryd hadn't cared. Hewas heir to the GreatLordship of Tyree and couldbestthematallthethingsthatshould truly matter of ayoungLenayman.Whatweretheygoingtodoaboutit?“Mybrother is dead,” said

Lord Tymeth,which stoppedallconversation immediately.“I wish to know how ithappened.”Jaryd turned to face him.

Pelynwereapowerfulfamilywith a large holding inwestern Tyree and access tolands that could become alarge source of revenueshouldthelordsgettheirwishand force the king to allowthemtotaxsuchlands.Oddly,Jarydfoundhimself

recalling the girl's scoldingaboutlandsandtaxes.AndofthedeathofLordAynsfarofNeysh, in the south, after hehad tried to impose suchtaxation without the king'sleave.Were they all fools tobestandinghereinBaen-Tar,withnotaGoeren-yaiinsightsave the serving maids, andpretendthat theyhadnothingto fear from the followers oftheancientways?The cold accusation in

LordTymeth's eyes added toJaryd's discomfort. This wasall wrong. He'd thought thegirl a fraud, but in truth, shewas a formidable warrior.He'dthoughthisfather'sgoalsjust and fair, yet he'd seennowhowfiercelytheGoeren-yai loved their freedom andhe doubted they'd just liebackandacceptanewsetoflocal, tax-raising rulers anymore than they'd toleratedLord Aynsfar. He'd always

thought his noble peersbasically honourable, with afew notable exceptions…buthe'd seen Lieutenant ReynanPelyn attempting to put abladeinthegirl'sback,whenhonour should havecompelledhim to rush toherdefence, whatever theirdifferences.Lord Tymeth stared, yet

Jaryd could not feel anyshameatwhathe'ddone.Hewas not a brilliant man,

perhaps, but he washonourable. Honourablebehaviour, with the stanch,blade and lagand hook, hadbrought him the only truehappiness he'd ever known.His honour was somethingrightandsomethingpure,andsomethinghis,thatnoteasingfrom his peers or contemptfrom his elders could everdestroy.“Ikilledyourbrother,Lord

Tymeth,” he said, with as

muchfirmdisdainashecouldmuster. “Sashandra Lenayinwon a duel against FarysVaran of Hadryn, one of thenorth's best swordsmen. TheHadrynproveddishonourableand attacked her following afair victory. I moved todefend the victor, with therestoftheFalconGuard,andin the ensuing confusion, Isaw Lieutenant Reynanattempt to shove his bladeinto Sashandra Lenayin's

spine, with clear intent.Thankfully, I was there tosaveTyreefromthisblightonitshonour.”Therewasnosound in the

palaceguestchambersbutthecrackling of the fire. Theyhadalreadyheard,Jarydsaw.Some men stared in open

hostility. Others looked ateach other, as if wonderingwhatnowmighthappen.LordRedyk wore a dark frown.Lord Arastyn, a serious

contemplation. Great LordAystin Nyvar wore nodiscernible expression at all.He had barely reacted. Hejust sat in his chair, lookingpaleandill.Jaryd felt a great surge of

frustration that, once again,he should be blamed forsomething that was mostcertainly not his fault.“Which one of you orderedit?” he demanded, scanningthe lords of Tyree with his

eyes. “Which one of youordered something sodishonourable? I canunderstand a man decidingthatTyreewouldbebetteroffwithSashandraLenayindead,but to do so by such amethod?Ishouldkillthemanwho ordered the deed for hedeserves death farmore thanevenLieutenantReynan.”His father cleared his

throat. “That would be me,”he said. Jaryd stared, his

breath caught in his throat.Hisfather lookedupandmethisgazeproperlyfor thefirsttime. A dry, humourlesssmiletuggedatthin,palelips.“It's no surprise I shoulddeservedeath.Thegodsgiveallmenwhattheydeserve.”“Boy always did have

more wind than wits,” LordParamys muttered. No oneleapttoJaryd'sdefence.“Why?” Jaryd asked, in

bafflement.

“Tyreewouldbebetteroffwith her dead,” his fatherrasped, “you said it yourself.A man might decide that. Amandid.Manymen.Anyonewhomight unite theGoeren-yai is a threat. The momentfor Lenayin's nobility hascome. We can afford nodivision and no obstacles.Krayliss is one obstacle.Kessligh Cronenverdt is lessso, for he was always moreNasi-Keth than Goeren-yai,

but his bitch is not. A royalGoeren-yai was always thedream of many. Best that itdoesnothappen.”“You never told me!”

Jaryd bristled. “You nevertrusted me with your plans!Why?”“Why?”His father snorted

a laugh, as equallyhumourless as the smile.“Lookat you.You think thispiteous whining surprisesme?Ididnottellyoubecause

I know my son. I know mysonbetterthanIwishto.”“My honour displeases

you?”“Honour is the last refuge

ofa fool!”his father snarled.“Honour is the excuse fortraitors to betray and forcowards to takeheel!This ishonour!”Hejabbedonebonyforefinger at the mensurrounding. “Your family!Yourclass!Yourfaith!Thesethingsmake you honourable,

no more! If you do notunderstand that, then yourhonourisnomorethanashesin yourmouth, and blood onyourhands.”“I will challenge, my

Lord,” Lord Tymeth saidcoldly. “I have no wish to,butmybrotherhasbeenslain.Familyhonour,myLord.”“Indeed,” said Great Lord

AystinNyvar, coldly. “But achallenge can be averted. Ihave had word from our

friend the Great LordKumaryn of Valhanan. Hehas heardSashandraLenayinis responsible for this death,notmy son. I seenoneed todisabusehimofthenotion.”“It makes no difference,”

LordTymethreplied.“Iknowthetruth,andthetruthcannotbe…”“It makes all the

difference!” Lord Aystinsnapped. “Have you heardnothing that has been said?

We must present a unitedfronttotheking!Honouristobe found in advancing ourcause, not squabblingamongstourselveslike…”“I shall not allow my

brother's murderer to escapejustice!” Lord Tymethretorted, his jowls reddeningwithrage.“If it's justice you want,

Tymeth,” Lord Arastyn saidcalmly,“thenyou'dbestkeepyour mouth shut. Master

Jaryd was within the king'sjustice, your brother wasnot.”LordTymethstaredathim,

toofurioustospeak.“Who's going to challenge

me?” Jaryd said angrily.“You, Lord Tymeth? You'realmost too fat to walk, letalone fight.Whatwould youdo,sitonme?”“I challenge on behalf of

my nephew Pyter!” Tymethyelled. “He's equal a

swordsman to you and onlytooeagertoseeyourheadona pike, I assure you, MasterJaryd!”“Enough!” Great Lord

Aystin yelled, strugglingfrom his seat. “Enough withthis…”andhebrokeintoafitofcoughing.Mencametohissides, holding his arms tokeep him from falling. Jarydwatchedascoughsrackedhisfather'sfrailbody.Hedidnotfeel much emotion beside

anger. The coughing passed,leaving Great Lord Aystinlimp in his chair like anempty shell. “There shall beno challenge,” he rasped,weakly. “Sashandra Lenayinshallbearthisaccusation.Myson shall vouch for the truthofit.”He looked up, his sunken

eyeswateryandpale.“You want me to lie?”

Jarydaskedincredulously.His father wiped his lips

with abonyhand. “Bright asabonfire,thislad.”“The Falcon Guard were

theretoo!Youcan'tgetallofthem to lie! Soldiers spreadgossip worse thanhousewives!”“Boy's got a point,” said

LordArastyn.Great Lord Aystin waved

his hand. “Gossip, there'salways gossip. Gossip alsosays that Prince Krystoffneverdied,thatheturnedinto

agreatgreywolfandcanstillbe heard near the Hadrynborder,howlingat themoon.It'swhatwe say thatmatters;the king can't act on gossip.Sashandra Lenayin killedReynanPelyn.Didn'tshe,myson?”

UPON THE LATE AFTERNOON

RIDEouttoSpearman'sRidge,a sharpwind began from thenorthandcloudformed,as ifout of nowhere, rolling in adark,swirlingmassabovethehills. Riding homeward at amoderate gallop, Sashafancied the air smelled of

rain, cold andgusting, as thetrees shifted and groaneduneasilyinthethunderofherpassing.Returning home, she

unsaddled and washed downthe colt, arranging feed andchecking all over. She thensaddledafilly,andwasridingit past the house in thedarkening,blusteryafternoon,when she saw Kesslighleaning upon the fence aboutthe vegetable patch. She

steered past the vertyn treetowardhim.“Where is Aiden?” she

asked.“Walking.His legsneeded

stretching.”“IfI'mtomakeRathynal,I

must leave tomorrow,”Sashasaid shortly. “You'll beleavingtoo?”Kessligh said nothing. He

looked at her, with wryconsideration. Then…“Bequick with the ride, we've

some exercises beforesundown and it's about topour.”“Sheneedsagoodgallop,”

Sashasaiddarkly,pattingthefilly'sneckastheyounghorsefretted and tossed, smellingthe rain in the air. “Are youleavingforPetrodor?”“Quick, I say,” Kessligh

said,with a hard edge to hiseye. “You're underdoneyourself.”Sasha glared. “Fine,” she

snapped,andkickedwithherheels. The filly shot offacross the lowerslopewithastartled snort, straight for thepathtotheroad.Therainbeganevenasshe

reached the foot ofSpearman's Ridge, lightspecksofmoisture thatstunginhereyesassheturnedbackfor home. The filly'scondition seemed good andsosheheldtoafastgallopforalongstretchupthewinding

incline she had come. Therain grew heavier, stingingher face, and she held acareful line through the fastcorners, knowingwellwherethe road could becometreacherous for the unwary.Soon she was partlydrenched, and rivulets ofwater ran across the road inlittlestreams.The road remained rough

where Kumaryn's force hadridden, hundreds of hooves

churning the surface. Theyhad camped last night uponthe fields above Baerlyn andthen departed the followingmorning.LordKumaryn, shesuspected, would headstraight for Baen-Tar—alreadytheotherlordswouldhave gathered for feasting,games and celebrationsbefore the serious businessbegan. She had little interestin arriving so early herself.Some more time with Sofy

would be nice. The extendedcompany of so many noblesandlordswouldnotbe.Predictably, the rain

stopped. Sasha wasn't fooled—approaching northerlyweather in Lenayin wasalways as such, first someshowers, then a break, andthena torrentialdownpour tosendeventhesnailsscurryingforcover.She returned the second

horsewithdueattentiontoits

condition, then descendedfrom the stables to findKessligh waiting with a pairof stanches, his own bandapadding already strapped tohistorsoandthighs.“Highdefence,”hetoldher

asshestrappedonthebanda.There was an unusualurgency to hismanner and agrimness beyond even hisusual, hard discipline. “Youjarred your arm defendingfrom your horse at Perys—

that's partly balance andpartlyupperbodystrength.Agirlneedstoworkonitextrahard.”Sasha shook her head

impatiently as she tightenedthe straps. “It was badbalance,Iwasn'tset…”“Sasha,” Kessligh said

firmly, “strength is thefoundation.Hathaal isnotallof svaalverd, even thegreatestserrinfemalefighterscould not escape

strength…elsa'as hathaal,strength within form. Lenaymen waste time buildingpower for power's sake…asvaalverd fighter must buildstrengthandflexibilityas thedemarathalas'anhathaal.”Sasha fed the torso straps

aboutherback.“I'masstrongas I need to be for what Ineed…”“Speak Saalsi,” Kessligh

instructed. “You're trippingyourtonguealready.”

Sasha took a deep breath,trying to order her thoughts.“I have sufficient poweracross the dimensions,” shesaid…or thought that shesaid.SomanywordsinSaalsihad multiple translationsdepending on context. “Icannot master all thingssimultaneously…I need tofocusmytrainingor…”“Focus is manifold,”

Kessligh replied, in farmorefluent and commanding

Saalsi. “You separate theinseparable.Allisone.Ihaveonly ever taught you onething. Draw it into yourcentre. Find the symmetry.You'll find that each newthingIteachisnottrulynew,only a variation of that onething which you alreadyknow.”Sasha frowned as she

finished her straps. Gave ayankofhardleatheruponthecold, wet shirt beneath.

Confusion aside, Saalsidescribed the svaalverd farbetter than Lenay evercould…or Torovan, for thatmatter.Aword could be onething, or it could be another,with a subtle shift ofcontextual grammar…just asa svaalverd stroke could bemany things, either offensiveor defensive, depending ontheslightestslideofafoot,ortheangleofawristtothehiltand blade. Saalsi forced her

to think, to consider everyword.Sometimesshethoughtthat was also Kessligh'sintention.Theybeganwithaseriesof

high offensive combinations,Kessligh attacking with rarespeed and fury. Sashadefended each with a rapidretreat and flashing stanch,occasionally feinting ormisdirecting toa sidestep forthe offensive counter…yetrarely, today, did her

counterattacks find success.Always Kessligh's strokesfound the limits of her higharm extension, straining hershoulders as her armsstruggled to hold their formabove her head. Once, shesimply lost the grip with ahard impact, the stanchsnapping back to clip herskull as she ducked.Anotherblow caught her a glancingstrike on the forearm as shehissedinpainandclutchedat

the bruise. The next time anattackcamefromthatquarter,she was ready with a hardslash and counter…yetKessligh'sownreversecaughther hard across the middlewith a lightning thud! uponthe banda that drove breathfromherlungs.“You overcompensate,” he

toldher inhard, calmSaalsi.Windwhippedtheuntidyhairabouthisbrow,aswildastheruggedlinesofhisface.“You

know that's your weakness.You overcompensate andleave your opposing quarterunguarded.Agoodfighterora lucky fightermay find thatopeningandsplityou. Ifyouwere less lazy on the armstrength,you'dbebetter.”Sasha breathed hard,

regaining her composure asshe leaned upon her stanch.“IfIbuildtoomuchshoulderstrength,” she said throughgritted teeth, “I get stiff.

Stiffness is the surestway tolimitmyextension…”“Bhareth'tei, not

bhareth'as,” Kessligh said.“You're implying thetheoretical, this is practical.”Sasha rolled her eyes inexasperation. “Combat is theplace where the unlikelybecomes probable,” hecontinued.“Youdonot thinkyour weakness great, yet Iexploit it even now. Fewsoldiers ever see the stroke

thatkillsthem.Oncemore.”The resulting session gave

her a whole new set ofbruises and the very nastysuspicion that Kessligh hadbeengoingeasyonher,evenduring her better boutsagainst him in the past.Certainly he'd warned her oftheneed to improveherhighextensionforalongtime,butshe could not recall himhaving exploited it soruthlessly before. And she'd

thought she'd beenapproaching his standard. Itwas time, it seemed, to thinkagain. Like on so manythings,oflate.Finally her late swing

barely intercepted a slashingcutthatcollectedherarmandcracked the left side of herhead. She stumbled to oneknee, clutching a hand overherear,asherheadranglikethe inside of a great templebell. Kessligh, crouching

opposite,heldhershouldertobesureofherbalance.Whenshedidnotfall,hestaredintoher eyes, drawing herattention.“Sasha. Sasha, are you

well? Focus on me.” Shetried, though it hurt. Shebrought the hand away fromherearandlookedatit.Therewas blood on her fingers,though not much. A smallcut. Kessligh's perfunctoryglance proved as much.

“Slowandsloppy,that'swhathappenswhenyourshouldersget tired so quickly. Watchmyfingertip.”She focused on it, as he

moved it closer, then furtherback, then side to side. Herbruise throbbed ina familiar,straightlinewherethestanchhadstruck.Highdefencewasdifficult to practise withouthelms. Sometimes, they'dused them…but svaalverdfighters rarely wore such

restrictive armour in combat.Mostly,theywerecarefulandkneweachother'scapabilitieswell enough to avoid injury.Mostly.“Stand up.” She did, and

found her balancewas good.Infact,therewaslittle,ifany,dizziness. It just hurt.Kessligh saw as much,grimly. “You always had athick skull,” he said. “Nowrun.Totheridgeandback.”Sasha glared at him. “In a

moment.”“In combat, there are no

momentstochoose.Now.”Sasha seriously considered

hittinghim.Itwasn't thefirsttime. Then, as now, sherefrained…if for no otherreason than she was highlyunlikely to connect. And fistfighting was one thing shecouldneveraffordtodowithbigger, stronger men.Kessligh's expression wasutterlyunsympathetic.

“Fine,”shesnarled,turningaway to unstrap her banda.Oncedone,sheflungitawayand set off running gingerlyacross the slope as the windhowled across the open, wetgrass, and the horses snortedand galloped nervouslywithintheenclosure.Therainbeganbeforeshe'd

evenreachedthesteepestpartof the ridge path. Treesshrieked in protest as thewindroaredandwater fell in

great, enveloping sheets thatquickly drenched what littleof her clothing was notalreadywet.Sashagrittedherteeth and slogged slowly upthe steepening path, feetquickly soaking within herboots, avoiding the slipperyrocks and mud. Her headached with each strugglingstep, her vision blurred withpouringwater,andshecursedKessligh with every gaspingbreath.

The rock atop the ridgewas shining wet beneathblasting, sideways sheets ofrain.Sashapausedamomentupon the edge of the hilltopclearing,gaspingforair…andcould not help but marvel atthe raw power of the storm,the trees bending andthrashinglikewildthings,thehowlingroarofrainandwindthatobliteratedallviewofthesurrounding hills. There wasa loud crack as a branch

broke. Then a sudden boomand rumble of thunder thatmade her jump and sent anewchillthroughhersoaked,coldlimbs…Shemadea fast spirit sign

to her forehead and turnedback the way she'd come.Despite theblinding rainandslippery path, she knew thistrailwell.Shedescendedfast,taking her weight upon eachpounding, downward impactwith practised skill. A

brilliant blue flash lit up allthe blackened sky, followedby a booming, bass rumblethat nearly stood her hair onend. She increased her paceas thepathdroppedyetmoresteeply, hurdling oneintervening outcrop with adownwardrush…Herankletwistedinaflash

ofpain,andsuddenlyshewasfalling, crashing and rollingdownslope,atangleofslidingearth and mud, her leg hit a

tree,spinningheraboutasthegroundfell fromunderher…andshecrashedpainfullyintoaharsh tangleofbushes.Fora moment, she just breathedand hoped she hadn't hurtanything worse than herankle. Unfolding herself onelimb at a time from thebushes,itdidn'tseemso.Cold, muddy, bruised,

drenched and with athrobbinghead, shewasnowin quite possibly the foulest

mood she could recall sinceher worst childhood tempersin Baen-Tar. Someachievement. Thunderboomed and rumbled innearby displeasure. Shehauledherselfgingerlytoherfeet andhissed inpainat theweightonherrightankle.Sonow she could barely walk.Justwonderful.Limpingdowntheslippery

path took an age. Movingslowly, and trusting one foot

withallherweight,shehadtosearch for secure footing aswater poured down the pathand any smooth surfacebecame treacherous. Twice,she slipped again, oncesliding several strides on herbackside, accumulating yetmore bruises. Finally, at thebottom of the steepest slope,the rain and wind easedsomewhat…but shewas nowshiveringwithcold.Worse, her excellently

craftedboothadceased to fitherrightfootsnuglyandnowevery step was agony. Sashasat down to remove it andfound the ankle swollen andugly. Limping onward, herbare foot quickly chilled inthemudandwater.Thehillsidewasdarkening

fast as she emerged from theridgetop treeline onto thevast, grassy shoulder, theblackened sky quickly losingwhatever daylight it had

retained.Hereonthesouthernslope, the northerly windmerely gusted and swirled.The house itself remaineddistant yet, a small shape inthe gathering gloom beneaththespideryvertyntree.Thereseemed to be a light at therear and one at the stables.Kessligh, she hoped, hadtakeninthehorses.Then there came the

unmistakable shape of agalloping horse and rider

along the lower fence. Itrounded the corner post andcame straight for her. Sasharecognised the horse—Terjellyn, with his familiar,elegantgait.Shedidnotstoplimping.Kessligh reined Terjellyn

to a halt before her. “Bad?”heaskedherfromthatheight,eyeingher limpand thebootin her hand. Sasha keptmoving, ignoring both horseand rider. Kessligh held a

handdowntoher.“Comeon,get up.” And stared in blankdisbelief as Sasha continuedlimping straight past him,eyes fixed on the distanthouse with grimdetermination.Foramoment,Kesslighsat

inhissaddleandwatchedher.Sasha thought he mightsimply ride back and leaveher to finish the journeyalone. She didn't care.Strangely, at that moment,

she didn't care aboutanything. Movement behindher, then, asTerjellyn trottedeasilytoherside.“Sasha, you'll make the

ankleworse.”Acalm,matter-of-fact statement. No alarm.No concern. Sasha felt asparkoffury.Shelimpedon,relishing the pain each cold,shivering step caused. “Withtreatment, it might onlytrouble you for a few days.Butifyoukeepwalkingonit,

that could be longer. If youneed to fight, you won't beableto.”Always the practical

concern. Always worriedabout her “role” as his uma.Alwaysinterestedinwhatshecoulddoforhim,noconcernfor what she wanted herself.Shekeptlimping.She'dreachthe house herself if it werecauseforamputation.“Sasha, don't be a damn

fool.” With tired irritation,

now.Noanger.Hedidn'tcareenough tobe angry.Shewasjustanotherstrategicexerciseto him. A project for hisbeloved Nasi-Keth. “Sasha?I'm warning you, get up onthe damn horse. I don't havetime for this childishnonsense.”She limped onward.

Behind, there came a lightthudasKessligh leapedfromthe saddle. Footstepsapproached, then a hand

grasped her shoulder, hard,pulling her about withpreciouslittleconcernfortheankle. Pain stabbed, andSasha swung at him in blindfury…and struck a glancingblow to his head as heducked, grabbing that arm.Shetriedtoripherarmclear,lashing with her left fist,whichcaughthimsquarelyinthemouth.Hespunback,stillgrabbing her arm, twisting itas she was yanked off her

feet, scrambling to her kneesthen as Kessligh wrenchedthatarmbehindher,tryingtoimmobilise the other armnow.Sasha'slefthandhadfound

the knife in her belt beforeshe could think, pulling itfree…but Kesslighabandoned her right arm totaketheleftinstead.Shetriedto slash clear, but a suddentwist and pressure on herelbow threw her face down

on the grass and rolling ontoher back, the left arm nowpainfully beneath her andKessligh's own knife at herchest in lightning, dangerousreflex. Sasha stoppedstruggling,heruman'skneeinher stomach, knife bladehovering with a clear,obvious line to her throat.Therewasbloodonhislowerlip, which was cut andappearing to swell. His eyeswere dark and dangerous in

thecold,windsweptgloom.“Go on and do it!” Sasha

yelledathisface.“Goonandwastethelasttwelveyearsofyour life! Serve you bloodywellright,thatwould!”Kessligh blinked at her,

shock rapidly replacingdeadly instinct.He threw theknife away, as if suddenlydiscovering it were apoisonous snake. Took adeep, gasping breath, andanother. It was a look Sasha

had never seen before. Fear.The sight of it gave her asurge of vicious satisfaction.Kessligh released her andmovedback,stillkneeling.“Some uman you turned

out to be!” Sasha snarled athim, retrieving her arm frombehind and struggling to aseat.Stilltheknifewasinherhand. “The first one getskilled when you're notlooking and then you nearlydothesecondyourself!”

Angerblazed inKessligh'seyes. “Sasha…you stupid,contemptible idiot!” He wasreally angry now. She likedthismuchbetter.“Neverdrawa blade on me! I've warnedyou many times, neversurprise me like that! I haveno safe reflexes, Sasha!They're all dangerous!All ofthem!”“You'renevertoblamefor

anything, are you?” Sasharetorted, far, far beyond any

semblance of self-control.“Godsdamn it, you're alwaysaccusingme of immaturity. Ihave twenty summers and Iknow I'mnotperfect!When'sit going to dawn on you,MasterSwordsman?”Kessligh stared at her,

incredulously. “What in theninehellsareyou…?”“You've never thought

about anyone but yourself inyourwholeblasted life, haveyou?Youdidn'trideoutfrom

Petrodor all those years agoto save the poor, sufferingLenaypeople—youdid it foryourself! Yourself and yourown stupid, blind convictionthatyourviewoftheworldisallpowerful!“You didn't save Lenayin

becauseitwastherightthingto do!Youwanted payment!And you took it! First youtookmybrother,thepersonIloved most in all the world,and then when it got him

killed,it'ssuddenlymyturn!”“Don't you ever suggest I

never cared for Krystoff!” Itwas as close asKesslighhadever come to genuinelyyelling at her. “I loved himlikeason!”“And why is it that you

never had your own realsons? Why not inflict thisdestiny upon your own fleshand blood? Why do it tosomeoneelse's?”“Because it's not theNasi-

Kethway!”He stared at her,kneeling on the lower slope,seeming torn between angerand consternation. Then heputbothhands tohishair,asif to tear out several greathandfuls. “Gods blast it,Sasha, what do you want? Igaveyouthelifeyouwanted,didn't I?Youweremiserablein Baen-Tar, you sworeanythingwouldbebetterthanthatlife!Denytomethatyoudon'tloveithere?”

“I never thought I was apawn in one of your damnpower games!” she yelled athim. “You never told me itwasallaset-up!”“I've tried to tell you so

many times,” Kesslighcontinued, with increasingforcefulness, “there's no easychoicesinlife!Yourfatherisking and he suffers for itdaily!Damonisaprince,yethe fears the weight of thatresponsibility! I chose the

Nasi-Keth,fortheyseemedtooffer the best chance ofescape from the manyhardships and terrors ofhumanlife.“And you…you had the

choice between a princess ofLenayin, or uma to a seniorNasi-Keth. You chose me.AndIput it toyou,myuma,that you have had preciouslittlecauseforcomplaintuntilnow.Damonhas suffered farworse than you—all your

siblingshave.Royaltyhas itsresponsibilitiesandhardships,but you…you were born forthis—running about in thewilds, rearing horses andlearning svaalverd. It's inyourblood;you'dchoosethislifewhetherIwasyourumanor not. Did you seriouslythink it would go on beingperfect forever? There'salways a trade, Sasha.Always. Not even you canescapeit.”

“You lied to me!” Sashayelled at him. It wasn't fairthat he should start makingsense, now of all times. Hecouldn't be right. Shewouldn't lethim.“Younevertoldmewhatitwasallabout!I didn't volunteer for yourblastedwar!”“You did,” said Kessligh.

Rain plastered hair to hisbrow. Blood trickled a slimrivulettothepointofhisjaw.Hiseyeswereasgrimandas

penetratingasSashahadeverseenthem.“Ifyouthinkhard,you'llevenrecalltheday.”Sasha stared at him.

Recalling, suddenly, the eyesofMaster Daran, fixed uponher with a similar, grimcontemplation. She'd beencurled on her bed in herBaen-Tar chambers. TheMaster himself had attendedher chambers, after she'dattacked the maid postedthere previously with a

knitting needle and drawnblood. Stray shards of glasshad crunched beneath hisfoot, where the remnants ofthefittingmirrorhadescapedthe maids’ brooms. Severalother items of her chambers’furnishings had disappearedafter she'd smashed them, ortried to. She'd beenrestrained, and slapped, andforcefedherdinneruntilmostofithadendedonherface,inherhairoruphernose.

Eventuallyallthefury,andall the urge to break and tosmashandtoventherdespairupon any person or objectwithin reach, had dissipated,and left her drained, weakand vacant. Krystoff wasdead, and her life was over.And so she had sat on herbed,watchedover byMasterDaran, the senior courtofficial in whose meticuloushands had rested theeducation and deportment of

all the royal siblings.MasterDaran had brought in hisnotes and papers, and hadworked at her desk with ascribble of ink and quill,positioned precisely betweenbed and door. Occasionallyhe had glanced her way, tofind she had not moved.Occasionally he had tried totalk, and to reason, to noresult.Then, Kessligh had

entered. Sasha recalled her

mild surprise. She could notrecall Kessligh ever havingentered her chambers before.He was a godlike figure ofthe barracks and the traininghall,hedidnotbelonginsuchmundaneplacesaslittlegirls’bedrooms. He had askedMaster Daran to leave them.Then he'd taken the chairMasterDaranhadbeensittingon and carried it to herbedside, all resplendent inuniform purple and green,

with squeaking leather bootsandacloakthatwasalmostacape.He'd sat upon the edge of

thechairand leanedforward,with elbows on knees. Hisexpression had been verysombre and very subdued.Sasha remembered the washof relief that it had beenKesslighwho'dcomeandnotoneof theothers.Notoneofthe stupid jesters with theirsilly shoes and sillier hats,

with bells and whistles andstupid tricks to try and cheerher up. Not one of thematrons, with theircommanding, “motherly”presence, to which she wassomehow supposed torespond in some fit offeminine empathy. Andcertainly not big brotherKoenyg, who had neverparticularly liked Krystoff,and could certainly neverreplace him. She'd looked at

his rough, uncompromisingface, and had known that,unlike the others, he wouldalways take her seriously.Here was a man who wouldneverlietoher.Wouldneverbabyherandcoddleherwithsoft liesandhalf-truths.Herewasamantowhomherslim,remaining sanity could clingto.“I offered to take you as

my uma that day,” Kesslighsaid, above the hissing rain

anddistant,rumblingthunder.“I told you what that wouldmean. I said that you wouldbecome Nasi-Keth and thatyour future would belong tothem. And when you agreedtoohastily,Ileftyoutothinkabout it for seven days. Oneachday,Iexplainedittoyouagain.Itoldyou,Sasha.Andyou agreed. Had you stayedwhere you were, I think itquite likely you would havegivenuphopeanddied.”

“I didn't…” There weretears in her eyes. Suddenly,shewas back in her room inBaen-Tar and could feel theleaden, oppressive weight ofdarkstoneallabout.Thegriefand despair were as fresh asbefore in overwhelmingintensity. “I didn't think I'dhave to kill people! I didn'tthink so many people wouldhateme!”Kessligh leaned forward

intently, his expression

incredulous. “Sasha, youpicked that fight against theHadryn all by yourself! Iwarned you what wouldhappen!Nowyoudecideyoudon't like the taste of blood?What's the matter with you?What do you really want,Sasha?All the rest of this ismanure.Whatdoyouwant?”Sasha's face contorted in

grief. “Why are you leavingme?” she barely managed tosob, as composure left her

completely. “I can't do thisalone. I can't abandon theGoeren-yai. And now you'regoingtoleaveme,andIcan'tdothisonmyown…”Emotion struggled to find

purchase in Kessligh's eyes.He grabbed her and huggedhercloseasshesobbeduponhis shoulder in the pouringrain upon the sodden,darkeninghillside.“There's a war coming,

Sasha,” he murmured in her

ear as she clung to him,desperately. “The Nasi-Kethmust be strong, for only wecan find a middle waybetween two opposing sides.YettheNasi-KethinPetrodoraredividedandweak. Imustreturn to them. And one daysoon,youmustjoinmethere,forIcannotdowhatneedstobedonewithoutyou.“Andyet,whenItookyou

as my uma, I swore that Iwould give you the freedom

to walk your own path.” Hereleasedherandtookherfaceinbothhands, to stare firmlyinto her tear-blurred eyes.“Walkthepath,Sasha.GotoBaen-Tar. Reason with yourfather and brother. Save thatidiot Krayliss's neck, if youcan.“When the Nasi-Keth

spread out from the Bacoshhundreds of years ago, theythought to bring theirenlightenment to all human

lands, not by force but byreason. I knew that when Itook Krystoff as uma, and Iknew it when I took you.Don't be angry with me. IloveLenayin. I owemuch toLenayin. When I rode herefrom Petrodor as a youngman,IsworethatIwasdoingit not so that Lenayin couldserve the Nasi-Keth, but sothat the Nasi-Keth couldserveLenayin.“IhavetaughtyouasbestI

can, Sasha. You havesurpassedmywildesthopes.”Sasha could only stare,disbelief joining grief uponher face. “I have given somuch toLenayin, but now, Ifind I have no more left togive. But you do. Whateveryousetyourmindto,youcanachieve. It is your gift. Bevery careful what you setyour mind to, for not allachievements are great. Butknowalso thatyoumakeme

proudbeyondwords.”Sashaembracedhimagain,

and sobbed some more.Kesslighheldher.Theywerecold, and wet, and shiveringin the gathering darkness.Andyet, despite the fear andgrief, Sasha knew that shehad not been betrayed. That,forthemoment,wasenough.

They had been riding for

threedaysandDaryddidnotknow where they were. Thescout that the man Jurellynhad sent to guide them rodeahead, keeping to smallhorsetrails that sometimesseemed to vanish in theundergrowth. It was rainingnow, a steady, miserabledownpour, and in places themudsuckedatEssey'shooveslikealivething.Itwaslucky,Darydthought,thathealwaysrodeprepared,evenaboutthe

fields of Ymoth. Otherwise,hewouldn't havebrought hisand Rysha's cloaks, whichnowkepttheworstoftherainandchillsofftheirheads.ButMama always warned themofhowfasttheweathercouldchangeandheneverrodeoutwithout a cloak in thesaddlebag.Thoughts of his parents

made him more miserablestill.Hedidnotknowif theyor his brothers and sisters

were still alive. The wetsaddlewaschafinghisthighsandhisbackwassore,buthedared not complain. Behindhim, Rysha was no doubtsuffering even worse—shewasagoodenoughrider,butnotasgoodashim.Also,sheworeadress,whichhadtobepulled up for her to sitproperlyastride.Herlegshadbeen chilled, until the scouthadgivenher a sparepairofhis own pants to wear under

herdress.Sherodewiththemnow all bunched up, her feetlost in the long, trailing pantlegs as she clung to Daryd'sback.The scout's name was too

difficultforhimandRyshatopronounce,sotheyjustcalledhimthescout.Daryd thoughthemight be from Tyree, buthe wasn't certain. The scouthadledthemovertheAralyaRange, which had beenexhausting and treacherous.

Alwaysthescouthadseemednervous on that path andseveraltimeshadledthemoffthe trail to hide in the forestasridershadpassedgoingtheotherway.The scout seemedto have very good eyesightandhadriddenaheadofthema lot to make sure theyweren't surprised. Now thatthey were down on the flatonce more, he stayed closeandmadesuretheydidn'tgetlost on the narrow trails. Or

maybe theywere lost,Darydthought. The scout didn'tappear tobe lost, though.Healways seemed to knowwhichwaytogo.“Daryd, I'm hungry.”

Darydreachedintohispocketand pulled out a handful ofberries the scout had giventhem.HegavethemtoRysha.“Here, be careful. Don't

drop any.” She didn't. Theyhad better food, for propermeals, but these were good

forsnacks,andthescoutwasgoodatfindingthemgrowingwild. The forest here wasthick and, despite his wetclothes and aching muscles,Daryd thought it verybeautiful, even in the rain.The pine trees seemed to betallerhereandthespirits thatlived in such trees would begreat and majestic. Hewondered if the trees wouldkeepgettingtallerallthewaytoBaen-Tar.Maybethey'dbe

so tall in Baen-Tar, he'dbarely be able to see theirtops.The berries tasted funny,

but Rysha ate withoutcomplaint. Rysha had barelycomplained all trip, not evenwhentherainhadstartedandher legs had chilled. Darydhad been amazed, and stillwas. She used to complainabout everything. She'd sleptagainst his side on the hardground at camp and had

sometimes squirmed andwhimpered in her sleep.But,comethenextmorning,she'drisen bleary eyed, eatenbreakfastandeveninsistedonhelping Daryd to saddle andfeed Essey. It had beenenough to freeze all ofDaryd's own complaints onhis lips. If Rysha was notcomplaining,certainlyhewasnotallowedto.“Daryd,” she said after a

while,astherainwaseasing.

“Whyarewegoing toBaen-Tar?”“To meet King Torvaal,”

Daryd explained. “KingTorvaal can send armies tofighttheHadryn.”“But what about Lord

Krayliss? Auntie Sedy saysLord Krayliss is Lord ofTaneryn and that he's ourfriend.”“PapasaysLordKraylissis

just a big bag of wind,”Darydreplied.“LordKrayliss

says he's a relative of theUdalyn, but he doesn't doanything. Papa says he's notreallyinterestedinhelpingus,hejustsaysthatheis,sothatpeoplewilllikehim.”“But why doesn't he do

anything? If he was really arelative,he'dhelpus.”“Taneryn's a different

province, Rysha. They speakTaasti, there…and a fewotherthingsIcan'tremember.They worship the spirits

differently. Papa says theydon't really know verymuchabout the Udalyn. Theyhaven't really seen us for ahundredyears.AndTaneryn'snot very powerful, and notveryrich,notliketheHadryn.SoLordKraylissjustmakesalot of noise, but he couldn'treally help us if he wantedto.”“What language does the

kingspeak?”Ryshaasked,asDaryd ducked a low, wet

branch.“Lenay. Everyone around

themiddleofLenayinspeaksLenay,likethescout.”“Itsoundsfunny.”Daryd smiled. It felt good

to smile. He'd barely smiledin three days. “Probably wesoundfunnytothem,too.”“You sound funny,”Rysha

retorted. “I don't.” Then, “IsthekingaVerenthane?”“All the big nobles and

royals areVerenthanes,” said

Daryd. “Taneryn's the onlyprovincewherethey'renot.”“Idon'tlikeVerenthanes.”“How do you know that?”

Daryd challenged. “You'venevermetanyVerenthanes.”“The Hadryn are

Verenthanes,” Ryshaobjected. “They call us nastynames because we're notVerenthanes too, I heardAuntieSedysayso.”“TheHadryn don't count,”

Darydsaidfirmly.“Evenlots

of other Lenay Verenthanesdon't like the Hadryn.” Athought occurred to him. “Ithink the scout might be aVerenthane.”“Do you think?” Rysha

sounded unhappy at theprospect.“Well, I can't tell if he's

Goeren-yai. So he might beVerenthane.Whydon'twetryandaskhim?”“No, Daryd, dooon't,”

Rysha complained. Finally, a

real Rysha whine. Darydgrinned.“Papa says King Torvaal's

a good man,” said Daryd,changing the subject. “He'sdone nice things for theGoeren-yai before. I'm surehe'llhelpus,ifweaskhim.”They ate a lunch of bread

and dried meat by a smallstream that rushed andgurgled from the recent rain.Thebirdsweredifferenthere,Daryd noted. Little blue and

black bobtails flittered andchirpedaroundthestreamsidebushes. Yellow flower birdssnapped at insects above therushing water. Some small,plain brown birds with longbeakspeckedatthingsonthewater surface near thestreamside, where the flowwas not as fast. The onlybirds Daryd recognised werethe black and green woodducks that swam furtherdownstream, where a big,

rotting loghad formeda stillpoolbehindadam.The scout saw him

watching the birds and triedtonamethemforhim.Darydmanaged someof thenames,but others he couldn'tpronounce. The scout hadperhaps thirty summers,Daryd reckoned—not as oldasJurellynhadbeen.Hewasquite clean for a scout orwoodsman, too, with shorthairandwell-mendedclothes.

He washed every morningandaftermeals,andevenputsomefunny-smellingpasteonhis teeth after dinner. ThemoreDaryd thoughtabout it,themorehethoughtthescoutwas probably a Verenthane.He'd heard that Verenthanesliked to keep clean, and thisman had no rings, braids ortattooswhatsoever.Atmidafternoon, the scout

tookthemoffthenarrowtrailand into the forest. They

stopped behind someundergrowthwhere the scoutgestured for the children tostay with the horses and bequiet. He then disappeareddown a shallow hill. Darydstood guard while Ryshasupervised thehorsesas theygrazedonsomewildgrass.Itfeltdifferent,toputahandonhis knife hilt and pretend tobe a real warrior. He'd seenreal warriors fight now, andhe'd seen them die. He'd

always been frustrated bychildhood, but nowhe foundhimself longing for thatchildish innocence. Backthen, he could be a realwarrioranytimeheliked,justbyimagining.Now,nomatterhow hard he pretended, heremained just a little boy farfrom home, cold, lonely andfrightened.It was not long before the

scout came quickly back upthehill,butnowhehadsome

men with him. Thesecertainly were Goeren-yaimen, all five of them, withlonghair,earringsandtheleftsideoftheirfacescoveredbythespiritmask.TheystaredatDaryd and Rysha as theyapproached, like mencreepinguponsomerareandmagical animal. They spokeamongst each other, withwonder in their voices, andDaryd heard the word“Udalyn,”overandover.The

strange men made himanxious,butthescoutseemedtotrustthem.“Friend,” the scout said in

Edu—theoneEduwordhe'dbeen quick to learn. Pointingto the five Goeren-yai men.“Friend.”Daryd nodded, warily.

There must have been avillage nearby, he realised.Just out of sight beyond thetrees. The villagers had thelook of men who worked

hard, with worn clothes andhardenedhands.Twoofthemwereverybigandtheothers,although middle size, alllookedstrong,even theolderones.Allworeswordsattheirhipsandknivesintheirbelts.“Eyastan,” said one man,

extendingahand toDaryd,afriendly smile parting hisbushybeard. “Eyastan, YuanUdalyn.”A greeting, Daryd

reckoned. “Eyastan,” he

replied and clasped the otherman's forearm. The man'ssmilegrewtoagrin.Eachofthe men said hello in thatway.One of them seemed toaskfortheEduwordforhelloandrepeateditoverandoverdelightedly when Daryd toldhim.WithRyshatheydidnotexchangethewarriorclasp,ofcourse, but rather shook herhandgentlyandpattedheronthe head. Rysha stood closeto Daryd's side, anxious and

shy.The villagers gave them

good, fresh fruit and somedelicious fresh bread. Thechildren ate and the adultsbegan jabbering in theirstrange, foreign tongue, withmany gestures toward thechildren. After a while, onewent running back to thevillage.“Daryd, what are they

doing?”“Idon'tknow,”saidDaryd,

watching the men'sexpressions and gesturesintently.Everynowand thenheheardawordthatsoundedfamiliar,buthedidn'tknowifthat was because it was thesame word, or just acoincidence. “These areGoeren-yai men, they'll befriendly.”He realised that he didn't

even know what provincethey were in. Valhanan? OrwasitTyree?Oneofthetwo,

he decided. Lenay wasspoken here, but these menprobably spoke a nativetongue as well. He wishedagain that he could speakanother language. Everyoneelse inLenayinseemed tobeableto.Soonthemanwhohadrun

off came back with fivewomen. The women greetedthemwithasmuchwonderasthe men and considerablymore fuss.They all had long

hair, a mixture of braids,loose locks and some beadsand ribbons. Their dresseswere coarse weave, sewntogether with some light,tanned skins—without thedecorative embroidery andbeading he was accustomedto seeing on his mother andaunts.The women made a

particular fuss over Rysha,which Rysha seemed to findmuch less intimidating than

she'd found the men. Onewoman produced a pair ofchild's pants and Rysha wasushered away to the privacyof some bushes to pull themon.Anolderwoman remained

behind to lookatDarydwithabeadyeye,andtalkwiththemen. Her hair was long andgrey, with an important-looking topknot, and shewalkedwithadecoratedstaff.The men were very polite

withher.Darydreckonedshemightbeaspirittalker,asthestaff decorations heldelements of all the spiritlevels—feathersofbirdsfromthesky,rocksfromtheearth,smooth pebbles shaped bywater, and beads of polishedwood or nuts from trees.When she hobbled close topeer at him, Daryd bowedlow. And when hestraightened,everyonelookedpleased, so he knew it had

beentherightthingtodo.When Rysha returned,

wearing her new pants underher dress, a new argumentensued. Some of the womenseemed quite adamant aboutsomething. The men seemedmore doubtful. The spirittalker just watched andlistened.Finally, one of thewomen

turnedtoRyshaandsmiledinthat way adults did whentryingtoexplainsomethingto

children. Daryd feltimmediately suspicious.“Endrynet chyl,” she saidsweetly. And pointed backdown the slope, towhere thevillage was surely located.“Karamyttervyst'al.Selysh.”Thewomanmimedputting

her head down on somepillows, palms pressedtogether,handstoonecheek.“Daryd, what's she

saying?” Rysha soundednervous.

“Maybe she thinks weshould have a rest,” Darydsaid dubiously. But thewoman was only looking atRysha, notDaryd. “Wemustride,”Darydsaid loudly, andpointed on in the directionthey'dbeentravelling.“Baen-Tar. We must ride to Baen-Tar.KingTorvaal.”Theyseemedtounderstand

that, at least, for worriedlooks were exchanged. Thewoman tried again with a

longer sentence, yet nomorecomprehensible.Her entreatywas all the more gentle andheartfelt, and again, directedonlyatRysha.“I think she thinks we

should rest,” Rysha saiduncertainly. “I am verysleepy.”“We've no time, Rysha.”

Daryd's frustration mounted.“All the Udalyn will havegonebehindthewall,but thewall won't last forever if the

Hadryn attack properly! Iheard Papa say so.We havetogetthekingtosendhelp!”Thewomanseemedtotake

Rysha's uncertainty for agoodsignandtookherbythehand. “Endrynet chyl. Amathul lysh towayalesh tai.” ShepulledRysha gently forward,awayfromDaryd.“No,” said Daryd, his

alarm rising. And then herealised what she wassuggesting.“No!”heshouted,

ahandonthehiltofhisknife.“No, you let her go!You lethergorightnow!”Thewomansaidsomething

inalarm,apleafortheothersto reason with him, whilepullingRyshaonward.Ryshapulledback,frozenwithfear.Daryd pulled out his knifeand pointed it at thewoman,hishandshaking.“She's my sister!” he

shouted. “She belongs withme! You can't have her. Let

hergo!”There followed a lot of

shouting, with the womanprotesting, backed by severalother women. Finally thebushy-bearded manintervened, impatientlyremoving the woman's handfromRysha's.RysharanbacktoDarydandclutchedhisarminstead. The woman lookedupset, both hands to hermouth. The bushy-beardedman was saying something

forcefully to the woman, inwhich the word “Udalyn”featured prominently.Goeren-yai men seemed tohave a high opinion of theUdalyn.Thethreatapparentlyover, Daryd sheathed hisknife before anyone couldnotice how much his handwasshaking.“Daryd,what's going on?”

Rysha asked shakily, stillclutchinghisarm.“Don't be scared, Rysha. I

think she just thought itwouldbesaferforyoutostayhere in the village with her.Shewastryingtoprotectyou,I think. Mothers are likethat.”“She's not my mother!”

Rysha protested, upset. “I'vegotamother!”“Iknow,Rysha.”“I want to stay with you!