Sasha nodded slowly, gazing into the fire.
Yasmyn smiled slyly. “I envy you greatly.”
“I hadn't thought you were struggling for proposals yourself.”
“Not in that. I mean that you could have your pick of these men tonight, and other men the night after. Isfayen women are dishonoured to have more than one man at a time, but you! You best them all, and they have no grounds for complaint.”
Sasha smiled. It grew to an outright grin. Yasmyn laughed. The Great Lord Markan saw their humour.
“Aha!” he said loudly, pointing at Sasha. “The great Synnich finally smiles!” Men about the campfire paused conversation to look. “Of what do you smile?”
Sasha shook her head faintly. “Sex, what else?” Men laughed.
“My sister is obsessed with sex,” said Markan. “It is a disease of the mind. I should send her to a holywoman to have her cleansed with smoke and ash.” He put an affectionate arm about Yasmyn, and kissed her head. Yasmyn shoved him away, scowling but good-humoured.
Markan had barely twenty-two summers, a year more than Sasha, but he was a very big lad. With Yasmyn's looks, his father's shoulders, and a cheerful disposition when not in battle, Sasha found herself reflecting that if she could have any man in Isfayen, she'd probably rather it be him. And she shoved the thought aside, as she knew it could lead nowhere good. Markan had been Great Lord of Isfayen for several weeks now, following his father's death. Sasha did not think the bloodwarriors of Isfayen had yet come to accept him entirely, and Isfayen being Isfayen, there were always grumblings of possible challenge from rivals. But Markan would have to stumble first, to provoke such a challenge. Sasha hoped that he would not.
There came a shout from somewhere beyond the camp. Then a yell, and a war cry. Sasha leaped to her feet and drew her blade. “Defence!” she yelled. “Defence!” About the camps men leaped up with weapons in hand. There was no mad rushing, for they had practised this, on Sasha and Damon's insistence.
Men made formations, but crouched low, not presenting a target to archers. Some oil was thrown on several campfires, making them flare brightly. Sasha herself did not join the line formations of the men, but ran to a near tentside and crouched there, peering past the support ropes. Yasmyn joined her, similarly ill-equipped to fight shoulder-to-shoulder with the men, her forearm-length darak gleaming in hand. Sasha thought she heard an arrow's hiss. Someone cursed. Then, more distantly, some shouts and directions.
“They're probing,” said Sasha, in a low voice. Out beyond the ring of firelight, shadows danced upon the trees, and made a luminous glow in the campfire mist. Here in Rhodaan, one did not post sentries beyond the ring of firelight and expect them to remain alive by morning. Even the hardy, far-ranging Lenay scouts returned to the safety of camp each night before sunset. Men with knowledge of woodlore set traps for wild animals, or suspended lines of string in the undergrowth, attached to pots and utensils to make a noise if disturbed. It seemed to help somewhat, for nighttime losses so far remained light. But all the same, every night someone died. After a time, it became unnerving.
“They fight like cowards,” Yasmyn fumed. Again distantly, Sasha heard a clash of steel, and another battle cry. Numbers were greater tonight, if fighting was hand-to-hand.
“They fight with what they have,” Sasha murmured. “A snake will always strike from below, a hawk will come from above. Serrin learn from nature. Complaining because they refuse to fight as we can beat them is pointless.”
At a further campfire, Sasha saw a man stand up higher to peer into the mist. His neighbour pulled him down. Behind, an arrow whistled, and Sasha spun to see a man falling, struck through the eye.
“Stay down, you fools!” someone shouted. Further back along the column, past the tents, Sasha could faintly see figures moving, edging to the trees at the flank. Only here, surrounding the royalty and nobility, did men remain in fixed ranks, making a defensive wall against the death that lurked in the dark. Serrin saw well by night, but many Lenay men had experience hunting, and knew how to ambush an alert prey. Some had had success in such attacks taking shelter at the perimeter, and letting the serrin stumble across them.
This attack was coming from the south, and the river, Sasha realised. It was the less obvious direction, considering open fields to the north. Where would a serrin ford a river, at night? Somewhere shallow, with lots of cover. Like water reeds.
Sasha caught the eye of a nearby warrior, and gestured. He ran to her at a crouch. Too late, Sasha realised he was Hadryn, his scalp nearly shaven, a slim goatee on his chin, and a large Verenthane star hanging around his neck. But still, he had run to her when she summoned.
“Have you an archer?” she asked him.
“Crossbowman,” said the Hadryn. Lenays did not fancy archery much, but the northerners used them more than most. “What of it?”
“I think I know where they came across the river.”
The Hadryn considered her for a moment. Then turned and ran crouched back along his line of men, to tap one on the shoulder.
“I'll come,” said Yasmyn.
“You're a fighter,” said Sasha, “but you're not a warrior. There's a difference.”
“I'm no use here!” Yasmyn retorted. “If not here, where else can I be useful?”
“Mey'as rhen ah'l,” said Sasha in Saalsi, with a shrug. “Such is life.”
The Hadryn crossbowman arrived, and Sasha set off at a low run for the cover of a nearby tent. Soon she was at the furthermost camp, near the river. Here men crouched attentively, blades in hand, some shields at the ready. Sasha spied several further from the firelight, low in the undergrowth against the tree trunks.
“Anything?” Sasha asked the man there. He was Fyden, Sasha could tell by the tattoo on his cheek. The Fyden man blinked at her, perhaps less surprised at her sudden appearance than with the company of a Hadryn crossbowman at her back.
“Not a sign,” whispered the Fyden man. “You're going down to the reeds?”
“Aye,” said Sasha.
“I'll come. There's a way through the trees, good cover. We've no more archers, but I could find one over with the Yethulen-”
“Three's enough,” Sasha replied. “Any more, we'll be spotted for sure.”
They moved silently forward, Sasha following the Fyden man's lead, the Hadryn bringing up the rear. The mist closed in, thick with the smell of evening cooking. Sasha concentrated more on speed from tree to tree than on maintaining silence; serrin eyesight was far more dangerous than serrin hearing, which was no better than a human's. From the column came the steady rise and fall of calls and shouts, as men from different sections called to each other. The Fyden man pushed through thicker undergrowth as the trees closed in, then onto a patch of open ground before a fallen log.
They took cover there, and peered over. Ahead lay more open ground, and then river reeds. Beside Sasha, the Hadryn steadied his crossbow on the mossy trunk of the fallen tree, and waited. Stillness followed, broken only by calls from the column. Sasha strained her ears but heard nothing. The Fyden man seemed more alarmed, eyes wide as he stared into the mist, breathing hard. Sasha was mildly surprised to realise that her own heart, whilst quickened, remained steady. Somewhere along her travels, she had lost much of her fear. Perhaps in Petrodor, though more likely Tracato.
Perhaps that was not all she'd lost in Tracato, came the more alarming thought. Perhaps she'd also lost the ability to care, and to feel.
She glimpsed movement. Barely more than shadows in the mist, down by the reeds. Lean shapes, all wielding bows. The Hadryn steadied his arm, lifting himself for a good aim. Sasha felt a stab of alarm that the man was about to shoot at serrin. And then a further alarm at herself, for even being here. Why had she volunteered to rush out here in the hope of hunting serrin at a possible river crossing? What had she been thinking? She loved the serrin. And now, as Lenay honour commanded, she fought them. But that did not mean she should volunteer to rush headlong into a fight. Her own actions baffled her.