Sasha (8 page)

Jaryd thought it far more likely that his fellow nobility were jealous of the man, partly for his accomplishments, and partly for the way in which he showed up their expensive tastes. It was surely not unreasonable that a man who had freely
given
his services, instead of being born into the obligation of service, should receive some gift in return? How to criticise such a man, who did not play by the rules that others understood? No wonder he made so many enemies amongst the ruling classes.

After a while riding along the forested hillside, Prince Damon fell back in the column to talk with Kessligh. Lieutenant Reynan took his place at Jaryd's side.

“The brat was up before dawn,” said the lieutenant, rubbing sleepy eyes beneath his helm. “I'd thought to follow her, but that horse of hers is fast and doesn't mind a night-time torch. Mine gets all flighty near a flame.”

Jaryd frowned at him. Lieutenant Reynan Pelyn was the brother of Lord Tymeth Pelyn, head of one of the twenty-three noble families of Tyree, and close allies of Family Nyvar. He was a big man, with a round head, small eyes, and a barely discernible chin. He had not served with the Falcon Guards for long—barely a year, in fact, just a short time longer than Jaryd had been in command. Jaryd did not think that the men were particularly fond of him.

“You'd follow her to her home?” Jaryd asked. He kept his voice low, and there was little chance of anyone overhearing above the stamp of hooves and jangling harnesses.

Reynan shrugged. “Lord Tymeth told me to keep a close watch on her at all times. I'm keeping a close watch.”

“So much effort for one girl,” Jaryd mused. “One might think your brother actually believes the tales the Goeren-yai tell about her swordwork.”

“It's not her sword that's the bother,” Reynan said darkly. “That little bitch causes enough trouble with the Goeren-yai as is, and the king's gone too teary-eyed since Prince Krystoff's death to do anything about it.”

“Do about it?” said Jaryd. “Lieutenant, who said anything about doing something about it?”

“My Lord brother said to keep a close eye on her,” Reynan said stubbornly, “and that's what I'll do. Make sure she doesn't cause any trouble.”

“She's just a girl,” Jaryd said shortly. “How much trouble can she cause?” And why, he thought, be so much more worried about her than about Cronenverdt? Cronenverdt held the real power, surely. The brat was just a distraction. A distraction for Cronenverdt himself, some said, in a meaningful way. A plaything for a man who'd developed strange tastes in sword-wielding women while amongst the serrin and Nasi-Keth of Petrodor. Some claimed he wished to sire a son from her, who might then claim the throne. Surely the nobles of Tyree did not believe such nonsense? There were so many before her in the line of succession, after all…

Reynan gave his commander one of those weary, superior, adult looks that Jaryd disliked so much. “Never you mind, Master Jaryd,” he said tiredly. “You just concern yourself with the road ahead, and leave the other business to me. Just remember to call on me if you need any advice—you're a fine warrior, Master, but older heads have ridden this road before.”

“I have plenty of advice from Captain Tyrun,” Jaryd replied, annoyed by the older man's patronising tone. “He's ridden these roads far more often than you.”

Reynan's face hardened. “Master Jaryd,” he said in a low, harsh voice, “that man is not noble born. He's a peasant, little better than a pagan…”

“Captain Tyrun is a true Verenthane and a veteran warrior!” Jaryd retorted in rising temper. “He rose from lowly status because he was the best, as is the tradition in the Guard! Do you question that tradition,
Lieutenant
Reynan?”

Reynan's jaw clenched. So
that
was the sore spot, and the reason why the other men disliked him. A lieutenant, after just one year. True, Jaryd was in command after a shorter period, but he was heir to all Tyree, and made no bones that Captain Tyrun remained in true command.

“No,” Reynan bit out. “I would merely advise, Master Jaryd, that you give some serious thought to where your future interests lie, for yourself and for Tyree.”

It was midday before the column took its first rest, the men dismounting upon a broad, open shoulder of the Ryshaard River. Kessligh and Sasha found a large rock in the river shallows and spread out their food, whilst Peg and Terjellyn remained on the shore with a handler. Horses splashed in the shallows nearby, drinking deep, and men gathered to share rations.

Across the wide, wild bend of river, cliffs rose near-vertical in a broken, granite wall. Atop the cliff, trees lined the high ridge. Above those, an eagle circled. Sasha shaded her eyes against the bright sun as she ate, gazing upward.

“Oh look!” she exclaimed. “That's a silvertip. She must have a nest up there somewhere. There must be good fishing in the river.”

“How do you know it's a she?”

“I don't. But Lenay men have this silly habit of assuming every dangerous animal is a he, when in fact the females are usually more dangerous.”

High above, the eagle cried. Across the riverbank, men were gazing skyward, and pointing. Goeren-yai men in particular had a love of wild things, and birds of prey had a special place in their hearts. “Do silvertip eagles have a legend to go with them?” Kessligh asked wryly.

Sasha frowned as she thought about it, watching the eagle's circling flight. “Not that I can recall. Although it is said that a white-headed eagle swooped down to carry Hyathon the Warrior away from the fire mountain to escape the dark spirits. But white-headed eagles are much bigger than silvertips.”

“All nonsense,” Kessligh pronounced, and took a bite of his roll.

“Why?” Sasha demanded. “Just because it's not what
you
believe?”

“Sasha,” Kessligh said around his mouthful, “if you'd seen as many people killed as I have, all because one of them believes this thing and the other believes this other thing, you wouldn't think it was all so harmless. Tales and legends are fun, but
beliefs
, Sasha. Beliefs are dangerous. Be very careful what you believe in, for beliefs are far more dangerous than swords.”

“And you believe in the Nasi-Keth,” Sasha retorted. “That makes you just as dangerous and misguided, doesn't it?”

Kessligh nodded, vigorously. “Aye. But the Nasi-Keth take their learnings from the serrin, and the serrin simply don't think like us. They don't believe in truth. They don't believe in anything they can't prove, and they won't construct these elaborate fantasies with which to advance their own power and kill each other. That's the whole point of the Nasi-Keth, Sasha—it's an attempt to help humans to think rationally. And that's difficult, I know, because humans are fundamentally irrational. But it's worth a try, don't you think?”

“Hmmph,” said Sasha, chewing her own mouthful. “What's rational?”

“Exactly the question the serrin ask each other constantly.”

“And what's irrational about the Goeren-yai beliefs?” Sasha continued. “It's rational, surely, that people survive as well as they can? Goeren-yai legends tell us much about these lands, and the animals, and the ways people can live and survive well out here. And the serrin have come here for centuries—
they
find Goeren-yai culture fascinating! So why should you, who takes his inspiration from the serrin, be so dismissive?”

“I'm not dismissive of the process, Sasha, just the conclusions. I'm dismissive of any culture that thinks it knows everything.”

“The Goeren-yai don't…!”

Kessligh cut her off with a raised hand. “I'm dismissive of any person who lives his or her life like a frog down a well—all it knows is that well, and those walls, with no interest in what lies outside. I'm trying to make you think, Sasha. That's all I've ever tried to do. That's all the Nasi-Keth as a whole have ever tried to do. To make people think before they commit some terrible evil in the name of their various truths, if it is at all possible that they might be wrong.”

“Aye,” Sasha replied, “well maybe that's the difference between me and you. You lead with your head, I lead with my heart.”

“Hearts can be rational too,” said Kessligh. “They just need a little training.” Sasha knew better than to try and get the last word in. “How was Damon last night?” he asked then, changing the subject.

“Nervous,” she said. “He slept a while, I think. His temper's short, but that's normal. Best not to push him.”

“With any luck, he won't make me. He's second from the throne, in truth. It's best he learned to deal with these kinds of things on his own.”

Sasha stifled a laugh behind her hand. “Damon. King!” She swallowed a mouthful, shaking her head in disbelief. “I can't imagine it.”

“Men have similar difficulty picturing you as my uma,” Kessligh replied, unmoved by her humour. His eyes flicked toward the riverbank. Sasha looked, and saw Master Jaryd Nyvar talking animatedly with a corporal. Their conversation was about swordplay by the look of their moving hands.

Sasha snorted. “Only because those men have never thought women good for anything but babies and housework.”

“What's wrong with babies and housework?” Kessligh said with a faint smile.

Sasha shrugged expansively. It was pointless to get annoyed. Kessligh simply liked contradicting her.

Kessligh swallowed his mouthful. “Before I came to Lenayin,
I
hadn't thought women good for much but babies and housework.”

Sasha frowned at him. “Oh come on! There are serrin everywhere in Petrodor! What about all of these wonderful serrin women you keep talking about, the ones you studied with as a Nasi-Keth uma yourself?”

“Serrin women, exactly,” said Kessligh around another bite. “Petrodor has a very conservative branch of Verenthane belief where women are concerned. My mother died when I was young and from then on the Nasi-Keth were my family. I saw many serrin women, but the human women I knew were very fixed in their notion of what a real woman was. Even when I rode to Lenayin for the war, I didn't see Lenay women as much different. It's only when I met you that I truly realised that a human woman might be born with the aptitude to be my uma.”

Sasha smiled. “Well at least I know what kind of behaviour impresses the great Kessligh Cronenverdt—brattish, noisy and overactive. I could revert, if you like?”

“Revert?” Kessligh asked in mock surprise. Sasha kicked him lightly on his boot and scowled. “My point,” Kessligh continued, “is that people never know what they shall be, and how they shall respond, until the moment of testing arrives. I can assure you that very few of my Nasi-Keth elders and peers suspected that I could rise to such heights from my beginnings. As a student I was quiet, uncooperative and solitary. I loved serrin teachings because they seemed to me to offer the best solution I'd yet seen to all humanity's obvious ills.

“But I was always frustrated that neither my uman nor my other tutors seemed to grasp the implications of those teachings fully. And so I enjoyed the company of the serrin more than humans. Serrin never judge. Through them I learned to see the world as it is, and myself as I am, rather than what I might want or expect them both to be. Which is how I recognised your talents, while other men would not. I realised I was wrong about human women. Many men cannot admit this about themselves.

“Always be aware that you may be wrong, Sasha—about anything and everything. I rose to Commander of Armies during the Great War simply because I learned from my mistakes, and the mistakes of others, and when something did not work, I stopped doing it and did something else. Many commanders did not, due to pride or stubbornness, and killed not only themselves, but many good men as well. The unquestioned belief in one's own supremacy and righteousness is the surest road to ruin yet devised by man. Avoid it at all costs.”

Sasha listened sombrely, chewing the last of her lunch as the river bubbled about their rock. Kessligh did not lecture often, yet she was not surprised that he chose to do so now. A Hadryn–Taneryn conflict was surely the most serious calamity she had yet ridden into. An uman's role was to teach, and to prepare his uma for trials to come.

“Why have the Nasi-Keth not spread more through Lenayin?” Sasha asked suddenly. “I mean…you led Lenayin to victory over Chieftain Markield, you risked your life and became a Lenay legend—all because you
volunteered
to come from Petrodor. The popularity of the Nasi-Keth and the serrin was surely never so high in Lenayin as then. And yet there are so few other Nasi-Keth here.”

Kessligh nodded slowly, as if faintly surprised at the question. “Your father tried,” he said. “He believes in providence, in signs from the gods. When Markield was beaten, your father saw that the gods favoured the Nasi-Keth, and thus surely they favoured the teachings of Saalshen. That was a time when the king was least persuaded by the northern fanatics, since the north had failed to defeat the invasion without help as they'd insisted they would, and had protested my ascension to commander at every turn. Trade with Saalshen improved dramatically, and many senior serrin were invited to visit the capital. And, of course, he declared that Krystoff would be my uma, binding the kingdom and the Nasi-Keth inextricably together.