“Whatever it takes,” said Stefani, with dour certainty. “The nobility debate in council, how to restore taxation to the landed men. Maldereld made it illegal two hundred years ago, and now they try to bring it back. To remove the power of the Council, and replace it with the money of nobility and their paid men-at-arms.” He glowered in the direction of the Blackboots. “In Enora they’d cut off their heads for daring to suggest it.”
“My friends at the Mahl’rhen are certain it won’t go that far,” Errollyn offered. “They say the debate in council is more about relieving some overburdened nobility from too much taxation, not about granting nobles the power of taxation.”
“Dear Errollyn,” said Sevarien, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You of all people should know better than to place much store in the analysis of the Mahl’rhen. Yours are a gentle people, they do not understand the viciousness and brutality of such folk as the nobility. Only a du’jannah such as yourself can understand.”
Errollyn thought he understood quite well. Exactly what he understood, about gatherings like this one, and some of the Nasi-Keth’s recent infatuation with them, he did not think wise to share.
Sasha was talking to Ulenshaal Martinesse when Reynold appeared at the door. The class had been overflowing, with students standing in alcoves and sitting against the stone walls to fit in. Martinesse had interrupted frequently, and the two women had argued for much of the class, to the delight of onlookers. Sasha had been quite alarmed at just how wrong Martinesse’s interpretations were of the reasons for Verenthanism’s spread through Lenayin. Now the silver-haired lady continued the debate, as perhaps twenty students clustered about to hear.
“Ladies, please excuse me,” Reynold cut in, walking from the doorway. “Ulenshaal, could I borrow Sashandra for a moment? She is much in demand, I know.”
The students looked disappointed. “We shall continue this at lunch,” Martinesse told them.
“Assuredly,” said Sasha.
“Come students!” Martinesse announced, clapping her hands. “I know you have other classes to get to.” They departed, some with a final, appreciative thanks to Sasha.
“Martinesse is an excellent Ulenshaal, yes?” Reynold said.
“She’s very smart,” said Sasha, trying to be polite. That much was true at least, and she hated lying.
“But?”
“I don’t know, some of the people in this place…I mean, they’re very clever, but they have these favourite ideas. And instead of accepting that they’re wrong when evidence proves their favourite ideas silly, they refuse to, and twist all evidence to try to make it fit their opinion.”
“Ah,” said Reynold. “But you cannot deny the passion for ideas in this place.”
“Ideas, yes,” said Sasha. “But ideas are not facts. Any fool can invent a crazy idea and be passionate about it, I don’t see that counts as wisdom.”
Reynold laughed. “Oh, come, surely we’re not that bad?”
“Not all of you, no,” Sasha conceded, stretching. She needed to get outside for a while, and clear her head. “Not most of you. I don’t know… I’m from a land of simple, straightforward people, Reynold; they say what they think and accept facts as they appear obvious. They’re not as sophisticated as anyone here, but I don’t think education and wisdom are necessarily the same thing.”
“Or perhaps you’re just homesick.”
Sasha shrugged, and smiled at him. “A little,” she admitted. “Did you wish to speak to me about something?”
Reynold thought for a moment. “I was wondering of your relationship with Errollyn.”
Sasha gave a puzzled smile. Reynold would not be the first to be curious about that. Hells, she was curious herself. “Yes?”
“Do you foresee marriage?”
Sasha laughed. “To a serrin?”
“It does happen, in Tracato,” Reynold insisted. “Initiated by the serrin themselves.”
“I’d never thought that far. Foresight and planning aren’t my strong points, as Kessligh’s always telling me.”
“So you don’t foresee marriage?”
“Reynold, I honestly couldn’t say.”
“He is very handsome,” Reynold pressed. “Most girls would be jealous of the chance to bed a man like him each night.”
Sasha was amused, but didn’t find the conversation reason enough to stay away from the sunlight. “Yes, well, the many jealous girls of Tracato will just have to deal with it. I have to get outside, I can’t stay inside for long.”
She headed for the door, expecting him to walk with her. Reynold stepped backward instead, facing her, partly blocking the way. “I mean, if I were bedding some stunningly beautiful girl,” he continued, “then I might prolong that situation for as long as possible, even if I did not intend to marry her.”
“Um, sure,” said Sasha, slowing down.
“But such a relationship could not continue forever,” he continued. “At some point, don’t you think, the flesh might tire of such simple pleasures?”
He reached for her cheek. Sasha was astonished, but mostly at herself, for being so dense. She was so unaccustomed to being courted. In Lenayin, most men desired a picture of feminine domesticity, and she was certainly not that.
She took a step back. “Reynold, I’m truly flattered. But Errollyn is more than my bed partner, he’s my best friend. Please understand.” She tried a smile, and hoped that worked. Spirits knew what went on in the minds of men, in such situations.
“Oh, come, you’re Lenay,” Reynold said easily. “The women of Lenayin are adventurous, surely?”
“Passionate,” Sasha corrected. “And loyal.”
“Next you’ll be trying to tell me that Errollyn is the only man you’ve bedded.”
Sasha opened her mouth to reply in the affirmative, and stopped. None of his damn business anyway. Now she was getting frustrated.
“Reynold, look. You seem a nice man, but the answer is no. I’d like to go outside now.” She gestured him out of the way. He advanced another step instead.
“Sashandra, you are an amazingly beautiful woman. I am not an inexperienced man, I am certain you’d not be disappointed.”
Sasha realised that she was retreating. She stopped, and he drew very close. “Look,” she began angrily, “let me make this very plain for you-”
Reynold tried to kiss her. Sasha sidestepped quickly. Reynold grinned, and pursued. In desperation Sasha threw a punch at him, and missed. He grabbed her arm and wrestled her close, and suddenly her arms were pinned, and his hands were on her, and there was no leverage at all. She couldn’t reach her knife, let alone her sword, and he was pushing her against a wall-not an enormously large or strong man, but a swordsman all the same, and infuriatingly she’d missed her opening chance. How many times had Kessligh warned her never to let a man get this close? She was a strong girl but against fighting men it was not enough; with her it was blades or nothing.
He had her off balance against the wall. In a flash of inspiration, she kissed him hard. She could feel his surprise against her body, his momentary flutter of excitement and astonishment…he grabbed her and kissed her back harder. That freed her arm, and she grabbed his balls, and squeezed tighter than she’d ever squeezed anything.
His face contorted, his grip slackened. In sheer fury for the taste of his mouth in hers, she smashed him with her forehead. He fell to his knees, clutching his nose, and Sasha drew her sword in a flash and put it to his neck. She felt unsteady, seeing stars, and her head hurt. That had been stupid. What the hells was she going to do, kill him? This shining intellect of the Tol’rhen, who until now had been nothing but pleasant and civilised? This unarmed man, who had never drawn a blade against her?
She sheathed the blade, and resisted the temptation to kick Reynold senseless while she had the chance. She strode out into the hallway, putting a hand to her head to check for blood. She found none. Still she couldn’t think straight, and doubted that was the blow to her head.