“You’ve thought about this a lot,” Sasha said warily.
“Aye, well you think about sword fighting, and I think about noble politics. It’s our lot in life.”
Sasha was unconvinced. She no longer hated Alythia, if she ever truly had, but some of her previous assessments of her sister, she did not doubt. Power drove Alythia. Obsessed her, in every waking moment. It was not necessarily a flaw; as Alythia said, Sasha knew what it was to be obsessive in competitive matters, and that it did not always equate with evil. And yet…
“Sasha, I’m thinking of Lenayin, as are you,” Alythia said firmly, as though reading her mind. “The armies of the Steel have not been defeated in two hundred years. If Lenayin suffers a catastrophic loss, royal ranks could be decimated, and then Hadryn takes the throne. We need options.”
“Who would you wed?”
“I haven’t decided. It would take a long time to raise a son to rule, if the great lords agreed to his legitimate claim. There would need to be a caretaker. A regent, of sorts.”
“All right, this has now become too hypothetical for me. ’Lyth, we have more short-term problems than Lenayin’s succession. What’s General Zulmaher doing in Elisse?”
“You’re the soldier. You tell me.”
“Many around here are saying he’s a puppet of the Renines, that he’s more interested in making noble friends in Elisse than destroying feudalism there.”
Alythia sighed. “Sasha, I am a new guest in the Renine household. I have leverage there, but not yet trust. I know nothing of the Renines’ schemes.”
“Do you think that there are schemes?”
“It’s a noble household, of course there are schemes. I know that everyone’s quite alarmed at these Civid Sein fools suddenly pouring into town.”
“The surest way to rouse the Civid Sein is to set up Elisse as a feudal ally to the north,” Sasha said with certainty. “I don’t know…why do the nobles want to tear down everything that’s been built here? Had you ever imagined a city such as this, before you came here?”
“It’s very impressive, yes,” Alythia said wryly.
“It’s the wealth, and the ideas!” Sasha was almost surprised at her own enthusiasm. “I’ve been thinking a lot since I’ve been here, and there are many ideas we could take back to Lenayin. I’d love to see a Tol’rhen like this in Baen-Tar.”
Alythia smiled indulgently at her younger sister. “You forget yourself, Sasha,” she said. “The Army of Lenayin is marching to burn this place down.”
“No.” Sasha shook her head. “I can’t believe that. If our army wins, Father would never order all of this destroyed.”
“He would not wish to, no,” Alythia agreed. “But, Sasha, look at what’s happened here. All these institutions, this learning and invention that impresses you so much, this is the nobility of Rhodia’s worst nightmare. This is a vision of the world without them. What was that old tale, about the king whose death is foretold by the fortune teller, and he orders every fortune teller killed? Why do you think this place has been so endlessly attacked the last two hundred years?”
“So why do the Renines want to pull down everything that’s made Rhodaan a success in that time?”
“They don’t want to pull everything down!” Alythia insisted. “They’re proud Rhodaanis, but…have you been following the council deliberations lately?” Sasha sighed, nodding reluctantly. “They bicker and bribe and betray. They call themselves the elected representatives, yet in truth barely one in five has earned his seat with a fair vote. Rhodaan shall fall if she does not have a firm hand. You’re a soldier, you know that an army cannot win without firm leadership.”
Sasha stretched back, hands in her hair. “It’s so frustrating. Every side has a piece of the puzzle, yet they refuse to share.”
“Sasha, you should meet with Lady Renine,” Alythia insisted. “You have heard only ill of her since you have been here, where everyone hates her. You will be astonished, I promise you. She loves everything about Rhodaan that you do, as does Alfriedo. And she despairs at the inaction of the council.”
“’Lyth,” Sasha said, “I’m not about to take sides in this.”
“I’m not asking you to. On the contrary, you could be the perfect neutral mediator. Someone who can bring the sides to talking, instead of fighting.”
Sasha stared across the library. She could not help the terrible feeling that she would be betraying her nation. The Army of Lenayin was marching to war against Rhodaan, and here she would be trying to help Rhodaan put its house in order.
Lenayin and Rhodaan were not yet at war, she told herself. Sofy was yet to marry. Larosa and Lenayin were a poor match, anyone could see it, and if those two sides came to blows in a fit of mutual outrage at the other’s appalling behaviour, Sasha would not be surprised. The die was not yet cast, and until then, her loyalties, and indeed her duty, lay with Kessligh.
The Torovan maps called it Panae Achi, or Harbourtown, but the locals called it Reninesenn, or Renine’s Town, in Rhodaani. Errollyn walked the cobbled streets, past wagons loaded with cargo, and wholesalers crowded with buyers. The haggling spilled onto the streets.
Blackboots chatted easily with a barber before his shop, cleaning a razor on his smock. A tavern did a rowdy business of sailors and dockers. In front of a bakery, women piled fresh bread into a handcart.
The Civid Sein liked to paint Tracato’s divisions as entirely of class, the wealthy against the poor, but Reninesenn showed otherwise. Noble families had always controlled the trade in Tracato. Today the old ties lingered, and the Dockside folk had not embraced the idea of a future without the nobility, preferring instead the old ties of patronage and wealth. Noble families owned most of the ships and nearly all of the warehouses, and any merchant or trader looking to move goods had to establish good connections.
Errollyn did not sense any hostility toward him but, equally, he knew he should be careful what he said.
Questions on the docks took him to a tavern opposite a grain warehouse, where carts crowded three deep, and men heaved heavy sacks onto waiting shoulders. Errollyn walked straight to the barkeeper, past tables of loud-talking men.
“I’m looking for Duchess Teresa,” he said to the barkeep, who waved him toward a table by the windows. Errollyn saw a table of sailors, rough looking yet not quite as disreputable as popular myth. Some had good coats, though hard wearing, and many wore braids in the fashion of seafarers. All looked as though they’d bathed in the last day or two.
“Welcome, sir!” said one man in Torovan as Errollyn approached the table.
“I thank you,” said Errollyn.
“And what can I do you for?” Conversation at the table ceased, yet Errollyn sensed no ill will. Serrin business on the docks was common and, for the most part, welcomed.
“I’m looking to buy raw silver and gemstone,” said Errollyn, hooking his thumb into his belt by a money pouch. “I’d heard the Duchess Teresa was in the business this run?”
“Ah,” said the man, “I was the quartermaster for that run, but I’m afraid we’re all pledged to other customers; my apologies, sir.”
“Not at all. Might I buy the table a drink and ask of the conditions of trade?”
“Absolutely!” beamed the quartermaster, and his mate pulled Errollyn a chair from a neighbouring table.