“And in Elisse too one day,” someone suggested, and there were cheers. That turned the conversation to the war in Elisse. General Zulmaher was making great progress, it seemed, though there remained a worry that he would not complete his conquest before the great Larosan and Lenay armies mustered in the west. Some concern was voiced that General Zulmaher was a feudalist, and did not truly wish to liberate Elisse from feudal tyranny. Others argued that it did not matter, so long as Elisse was eliminated as a threat to Rhodaan’s northern border while the Steel faced the oncoming, and far greater, western threat.
Another young man thought it wonderful that Elisse would soon become the fourth province of the Saalshen Bacosh, the first such expansion since the serrin arrived two centuries before. Sasha recalled what Councilman Dhael had said about imperial ambition, and how some felt it didn’t belong in Rhodaan. None of these young students seemed to agree. Perhaps times were changing.
The road entered a grand square, with statues twice the size of a man towering before the walls. Lanterns illuminated the figures from below, stone faces aflicker, eyes wise and distant. About the facade walls were arches, and smaller statues adorned high rooftops. Sasha stared about, amazed.
“Who are these people?”
“Surely you recognise the lady here?” Reynold said, pointing to a statue of a woman in a flowing robe. She held a book before her, as though in prayer over its pages. From the faint angle of the sculpted cheekbones, Sasha thought the woman must be serrin.
“Maldereld?” Sasha said dubiously. “But she was a warrior.”
Reynold nodded. “More renowned to Tracatans as a scholar, and a builder of institutions. The artists most commonly portray her with books or scrolls.”
Suddenly the air clattered with hooves. Horses burst into the courtyard, men astride wearing jackets and swordbelts that glittered gold and silver in the lantern light. The Nasi-Keth lads stopped, and fell back cautiously, yet no blades were drawn. For an instant, Sasha thought the horsemen might attempt an encirclement, but they reined to a halt not far from the group, and presented no immediate threat save that they blocked the way.
The lead rider swung down from his saddle. He was a portly man of perhaps middle age, with long hair and a trim beard.
“Lord Elot!” called Reynold, with little apparent concern. “A nice night for a ride?”
“Indeed, Master Reynold,” said Lord Elot. “I had heard that you may be in the presence of royalty. This caused us much alarm, for surely little would you know of how to treat a royal lady.”
“And now you have blocked her path, and delayed her arrival at a meal and a hot bath, which she was surely desiring. Where are your manners, Lord Elot?”
“You have guests and you have not introduced me,” Elot replied, unfazed. “Where are yours, Master Reynold?”
“Kessligh Cronenverdt,” said Reynold, indicating Kessligh. “His uma, Sashandra Lenayin. Master Errollyn. And in the carriage, as befits her station, Princess Alythia Lenayin.”
“Yuan Kessligh,” said Lord Elot, walking to him. “I am Lord Desani Elot, cousin to the Lady Renine.”
“A pleasure,” said Kessligh, shaking his hand. “My uma, Sashandra.”
Elot took Sasha’s hand also, but seemed uncertain what to do with it. Sasha was used to that. She escorted the lord back to the carriage, which she guessed was the proper form, and opened the door. Alythia emerged, with no small drama. Elot took a knee.
“My dear Lord,” said Alythia. “A true pleasure to meet one of the great line of Renine. I have read so much about you.” Sasha knew that it was true. Alythia had done considerable reading over the last few months in Petrodor on the history of Rhodaan. She knew who was in power when the serrin came, who had resisted and perished, who relinquished their feudal powers willingly to help the serrin make a new Rhodaan and who never returned at all from the forests of Saalshen.
She had also read some small amount on Enora, and had recounted with much shock her findings to Sasha. The example of Enora had frightened many Rhodaani noble families into cooperation with the serrin, and the serrin, perhaps ashamed of the slaughter, had treated those families less harshly as hindsight now suggested that they might have been. The serrin had expected nobility, awkward and antiquated concept that it was, to die a natural death. Instead, it had clung on long enough to rise again with the flourishing wealth of the new Rhodaani nation. Today, noble families were powerful once more, and although their old entitlements were stricken from Rhodaani law, that did not mean as much to some as the enforcers of the new laws believed it should.
Lord Elot kissed Alythia’s hand. “Princess Alythia. An honour.”
“Were those your men who tried to abduct us at the docks?” Alythia enquired mildly.
“A misunderstanding, Your Highness,” he said. “Several of our noblemen heard only that some powerful Lenays were coming to Rhodaan…the men and women of Lenayin are not greatly in favour in Rhodaan at this time, please understand.”
Alythia inclined her head, gracefully.
“I hope that they did not cause you too great an inconvenience?” Elot pressed.
“Not too great,” said Alythia.
“Your Highness, I am here to offer you an invitation of hospitality, from Family Renine to you. We would be honoured for you to join us, where we can lodge you in the manner to which you are rightly accustomed.”
Alythia’s gaze flicked to Sasha. Smug.
“I should be very pleased to accept such a gracious offer,” she said. “Would you be so good as to grant me an escort?”
“Your Highness, I am most relieved. I had feared our rash noble friends had caused you an offence. I shall escort your carriage personally.”
He rose, and strode to his horsemen.
“’Lyth, you’re crazy!” Sasha exclaimed in Lenay. “You’ve no idea who the hells he is!”
“He is nobility, Sasha,” Alythia said calmly, as though that made everything fine.
“And you’re the daughter of the man who leads the best warriors in Rhodia into a war against Rhodaan! You don’t think you’d make a wonderful hostage?”
Alythia did not get angry. Instead, she placed a hand on Sasha’s shoulder. “Sasha, it’s very sweet that you’re concerned for me, but please. You know me. This is what I’m good at. You have your sword, and Kessligh has his high reputation and military mind, and I have the influence of status and royalty. Besides which, if not to make contacts of this sort, why on Earth do you think I came along?”
“Because in Petrodor you were poor,” Sasha said drily.
“Exactly,” said Alythia, smiling sweetly. “This is my element, Sasha. I don’t tell you how to fight. Do me the same courtesy, yes?”
Two
S OFY LENAYIN GALLOPED ACROSS THE ROLLING HILLS of southern Telesia, and felt that life could not possibly be more wonderful. Everywhere the grass was rising on tall stems that lashed about her horse’s legs, and flowers were blooming, yellow and purple and red across the glorious green sea.
Ahead, the land rose once more, and Sofy urged Dary faster up the rise. Perhaps she would finally discover a view down into Algrasse, and the Bacosh. But when she arrived, she saw only more hills, and lush, waving grass and flowers, far off to the horizon. The sight made her happy. She did not want this journey to end.
Further along the shallow ridge there loomed another old fortress, stark, broken walls and piles of fallen stones now overgrown with weeds. She pointed Dary that way and let him run as only a Lenay dussieh could-tirelessly, and with little sign of fatigue. She liked to ride out in front of her guard like this, and pretend she was alone on the plain, just her and her horse, and the wind in her hair. Princess Sofy Lenayin had been truly alone and in charge of her own destiny so very few times in her life.