Sasha looked to Aisha, who merely stood aside and watched, venturing nothing. Had she given this warning out of friendship? Had she gone against Rhillian’s wishes? Certainly she did not completely disagree with Rhillian’s actions. That alone gave Sasha pause. Rhillian’s judgement she did not trust, but Aisha was another matter.
Soldiers burst into the grand chambers, shouting and lining men against the walls, but with no use of force save their tongues. Several pushed the men back from the fireplace, and retrieved those papers yet unburned. A captain emerged, and was confronted by the Lady Renine, all cool, unarmoured dignity before shield, breastplate, sword and crest.
“Dear Captain,” she said graciously, “I welcome you to my home. May I have your name?”
The captain looked uncertain, as though suddenly unsure of his place. Sasha flicked a glance at Alythia, and found her attention rapt, eyes wide with adoration upon the Lady Renine. Ah, thought Sasha. Now she understood, this dangerous attraction to Rhodaan’s most powerful noble family.
“M’Lady,” the captain said gruffly, and removed his crested helmet. A big man, dusky and square jawed, he seemed unwilling to meet the Lady’s gaze. “I am Mieren, Captain Mieren.”
“Of the farmer Mierens of lower Pathan?”
“Related, M’Lady.”
“Oh a delight, my dear Captain. Such a distinguished family, I hear the villagers of those lands speak ever so highly of them.”
The captain took a deep breath. “M’Lady, I have orders to escort all residents of the Ushal Fortress to the Justiciary.”
Lady Renine inclined her head, gracefully. “On what charge, Captain?”
“Treason, M’Lady.”
There were outraged shouts from several noblemen, and soldiers’ hands tightened on the hilts of their swords. Lady Renine held up her hands.
“Please, my dearest friends and family,” she said soothingly, “your outrage is just, yet it is indeed pointless to direct it at our noble soldiers of the Steel. These are good and honourable men, merely obeying their orders, as all good Rhodaani soldiers will. If you please, Captain, we shall accompany you in just a moment. If we first might be allowed to gather some things?”
“No possessions, M’Lady,” said Captain Mieren, uncomfortably. “I’m sorry, M’Lady.”
“Indeed,” said Lady Renine. “Come, Alfriedo, we shall go.”
“Yes, Mother,” said the young lord, walking to grasp his mother’s hand, as cool and dignified as she.
“Fear not, my friends,” said Lady Renine to those surrounding, “this thing has merely begun. Our serrin friends appear to have forgotten exactly whose land this truly is.” With a cold stare at Aisha that had none of her previous, gracious warmth. And to Sasha, her charm quickly returning, “Dearest Sashandra, Alythia is fortunate to have such a dedicated and loving sister as you. Please give my regards to your noble uman; we have had the opportunity to meet on two occasions, and I hold his wisdom in the highest regard. Please ask him to consider the Nasi-Keth’s position on this matter, and that of the Tol’rhen. That position could, I feel, become the pivot upon which rests the future of Rhodaan.”
She walked to leave, accompanied by others, watched by wary soldiers. Alythia walked first to Sasha and embraced her. “Thank you for coming so fast,” she said, with real emotion. She pulled back to look Sasha in the face, and her eyes were shining. “I’m very touched.”
Sasha shrugged, and managed a wry grin. “You’re my sister.”
Alythia kissed her on the cheek. “And you’re mine,” she said proudly. “My little sister. Be well and look after yourself, yes? I think perhaps I shall be safer in a dungeon than you on the outside.”
The streets of Tracato were deserted. In places there was debris on the cobbles, human items, lost pieces of clothing, a walking staff, an empty leather bag. The crowds and rioting mobs had rushed, and gone. From somewhere distant drifted yells and chants. The soldiers at Rhillian’s flanks eyed the windows and alleys warily, shields ready, waiting for archers.
Nearer the Justiciary, the human traffic increased. Before its arches were milling cityfolk, horses, Blackboots, and a guard of Steel upon the steps. Above them all loomed Maldereld’s statue, her sword raised to a cloudless sky. A familiar lieutenant saw Rhillian, and broke off his conversation with a Blackboot officer from the base of Maldereld’s plinth.
“Lieutenant Raine,” Rhillian greeted him as he matched her stride. “What progress?”
“Many arrests,” said Raine, removing his helmet as they entered the building. “Someone is making lists inside, I’ve not seen the latest. I think we have half the councilmen we wanted…”
“Renine?”
“Yes, all of them. But the law states we cannot hold them if we do not charge them.”
“My, what a sophisticated city this has become.”
“Do you wish the law suspended?” Raine asked her. It took Rhillian a moment to realise he was serious. She could, it occurred to her. Captain Renard was respected, but did not have the authority of a general. Zulmaher was under arrest, and alternative generals were at the western border. In Elisse, the Steel officers had come to respect Rhillian’s command greatly, and had praised the talmaad for making the pacification of Elisse enormously more simple. That respect had spread to the men. That, and she spoke with the authority of Saalshen, perhaps even more, in the eyes of these men, than Lesthen. Until some other general was summoned back to Tracato, she was effectively in command of this rebellion. Lesthen agonised over the moral and ethical implications of what she’d helped to do. Rhillian felt entirely calm.
“No,” she replied. “The Blackboots are unhappy as things stand, and I’ll not make enemies of the justiciars entirely. The Steel cannot remain in Tracato for long, and once you’re gone, true power shall flow from this building.”
The entry stairs led into a long, wide hall, filled with activity. Justiciars in black cloaks argued, clerks hurried clutching immense rolls of parchment, Blackboots escorted hands-tied prisoners while other cityfolk protested and pleaded beneath the wary eye of local guards. Rhillian threaded her way through, with Lieutenant Raine as an escort.
She did not continue down to the rows of courts, but turned left instead, and was halfway down an adjoining hall when a page brought an old man out from a doorway ahead. Rhillian stopped before him, and bowed.
“Justice Sinidane,” she said with respect. “I regret I have not had the opportunity to call on you since my return from the war. You look well.”
Sinidane snorted. “One of the most irritating things about growing old,” he replied, “is that every acquaintance must remark to my face their mounting surprise that I’m not yet dead. What have you gone and done now, silly girl?”
Sinidane had better than eighty years, yet looked well enough for that. He walked tall and unaided, though slowly, and spoke with an eccentricity that could seem to the unacquainted like absentmindedness. There were some Rhodaanis who opined that Sinidane, rather than Premier Chiron, was the true power in Tracato. As chief justiciar, his world was the law, and even premiers, High Table seats and councilmen must bow to the law. If only, Rhillian thought sadly, Maldereld had been more successful in removing the temples from the equation entirely. Sinidane’s black robes bore the emblazoned silver of a great, Verenthane star. Rhodaani justice came from the gods, or else no citizen would respect it as true. And that, frustratingly, brought the priesthood into the equation.
“If you will accompany me downstairs, I believe I can demonstrate to you exactly what I’ve been doing, Justice Sinidane,” Rhillian replied.
“Stairs, you say? Do I look like a sprightly young man to you?”