Joel Shepherd - Tracato

Sasha was displeased too. “We’re supposed to be impartial,” she said crossly to Daish, who gave her a wary look.

At the courtyard’s edge, Sasha saw a Blackboot lieutenant astride a horse, watching proceedings with a small personal guard. He looked angry.

She strode to him. His personal guard moved forward, hands on hilts, but Sasha simply extended her hand to them. Their distrust faded a little, and one accepted her handshake, then another. Sasha beckoned to the lieutenant on his horse. The lieutenant thought about it, then dismounted. Sasha shook his hand too.

“Sashandra Lenayin,” she introduced herself in Torovan, hoping he spoke the same. “Uma to Kessligh Cronenverdt.”

“Lieutenant Muline,” said the Blackboot. He stood a great deal taller than her in his high leather boots, yet his eyes flicked warily to the sword hilt at Sasha’s shoulder. Sasha had met men who disbelieved her martial prowess until it was demonstrated to them. Clearly this man had seen enough serrin women use the svaalverd that he was not one of those. “What brings the Nasi-Keth to this gate in force?”

Sasha repressed a smile. She could hear Kessligh’s voice in her ear, chiding her to be polite. “It’s my fault,” she admitted. “I came to visit, and some new friends accompanied me. Purely a coincidence. What brings the Blackboots here?”

“Complaints from the farmers,” said Lieutenant Muline, with irritation. He meant the stall owners, Sasha realised, not the Civid Sein. “This courtyard is for the selling of goods, yet the Civid Sein think they have a perfect right to camp here and disrupt the livelihood of hard-working country folk.”

“The Civid Sein argue they are hard-working country folk,” Sasha replied.

“I was raised in Varne,” Muline said. “It’s a little town in the east, not far from the Saalshen border. My father is a miller, my uncles farmers and tradesmen, and none of them loves the Civid Sein.” Sasha was coming to suspect as much. “They are from the countryside, yet they take advantage of that status, as though it gives them special rights. They claim support of the farmers in this courtyard, and probably they did have some support a month or two ago when they first arrived. But now that support runs short, and the farmers ask us to come and clean up the mess…only for the Nasi-Keth to intervene on the Civid Sein’s side, without asking questions.”

He glowered at her. Sasha sighed. “I apologise for my friends,” she said. “I’m new to Tracato. I’d like the Nasi-Keth to be more thoughtful about this than I’ve seen. But they dislike the nobility, and so assume the Civid Sein are their friends.”

“Because they’re poor and downtrodden,” the lieutenant said sarcastically. “I was born as poor and downtrodden as any of this lot, yet I rose to this station because I believe in law, justice and the security of Rhodaan. Ask this lot what they believe in, they’ll give you only complaints.”

Sasha glanced back at the courtyard. The stall owners looked as displeased with the Civid Sein as with the Blackboots, perhaps more. And now, her Nasi-Keth lads were taking sides, perhaps the wrong one.

“I can’t promise I can help much,” Sasha told the lieutenant, “but I can get the boys out of it.”

She walked toward the confusion, beckoning to Daish, who darted between stalls to reach her. “The tall lad is Palis, the younger Torine…who’s the darker one?”

“Alfone,” said Daish.

“Hey!” Sasha yelled. The squabbling was mostly about the Civid Sein’s makeshift tents, which the Blackboots were attempting to take down. No one listened. Nearby was a wagon, doubling as a stall for sacks of grain. Sasha climbed up onto the sacks. “Hey! Palis, Torine and Alfone! Nasi-Keth!”

In amongst it, on the Civid Sein side, the three lads looked up at her.

“You get the hells out of there!” she yelled at them. And when they hesitated, “Now!”

Two of them moved. A third, Palis, stayed where he was, pushing Blackboots away from the tents.

Sasha leaped from the wagon and pushed through the crowd. She came up near Palis and grabbed him by the arm.

“If you won’t use your ears,” she snarled, “I’ll cut them off and grant them to someone in need!” He moved, but several Civid Sein men saw and grabbed him back. Another grabbed Sasha. She twisted, and in the blink of an eye had a knife at the man’s throat. He froze, and the others backed off. The nearby Blackboots also stopped.

“No grabbing!” Sasha insisted.

“You’d draw steel against sons of the soil?” exclaimed a Civid Sein man.

“These are the sons and daughters of the soil!” Sasha retorted, pointing angrily at the stall owners looking on. “ They’re the ones who asked for the Blackboots to come, to get you off their damn market so they can make a living!”

“Lies!” shouted the Civid Sein man. “The nobility are scum! They’ve been trying to get rid of us for weeks.” The shouting and shoving along other parts of the line was lessening as attention turned to this new confrontation.

“What makes you think you have the right to camp before the Mahl’rhen gate for weeks anyhow?” Sasha replied. “Harass the serrin, deprive country folk of their livelihood and locals of their peace?”

“We come to appeal to Saalshen!” shouted the man. “To resist the snivelling demands of the nobility! General Zulmaher, even now, marches at the head of our army in Elisse, befriending the noble families there rather than defeating them-”

“Have you talked to the serrin?” Sasha cut him off.

“They don’t talk to us, they’re bought and paid for by the nobility.” There were angry shouts of agreement from other Civid Sein.

“Let me tell you one thing about the serrin, friend!” Sasha said firmly. “No man or woman, ever, has bought and paid for their opinions. I’ll get you in.” The man stared at her. The commotion had nearly stopped. “Don’t just stand there, choose three men from amongst you, and I’ll take you to see someone senior.”

The man still stared at her, not knowing what to say. Sasha clapped her hands impatiently, and he jumped to choose his men. Sasha pointed firmly at the line of Blackboots, indicating that they should stay. They stayed. She turned on her heel and strode back to the Mahl’rhen gate.

“The commotion will stop if they get to speak to someone,” she said to one of the serrin there. “I said I’ll bring three of them inside.”

“Must we?” said the serrin, drily. “Speak to them?”

Sasha was astonished. She’d finally found a group of people the serrinim found too tedious to muster any enthusiasm for debating. They had, she guessed, been putting up with this for years. Decades, even.

“Would you rather have blood spilt on the courtyard?”

The serrin actually appeared to think about it, and be uncertain of the answer. Then he sighed. “Bring your men. I shall select the lucky interlocutor.”

Someone else edged through the wall of armed serrin. It was Errollyn. He came to her side and looked out at the courtyard. “What happened?”

“Civid Sein trouble,” Sasha explained. “I settled them down. I’m escorting three inside for talks.”

Errollyn stared at her. “You!” he said with astonishment. “You broke up a commotion? You’re certain you didn’t cause this?”

Sasha punched at his arm. Errollyn dodged and laughed.

R HILLIAN TORE ACROSS NEWLY PLOUGHED FIELDS, skirted a vegetable patch bordered by several peasant hovels, and leaped a fence. Ahead, the last of the bandits were galloping for the forest. No matter, she thought, leaning low in the saddle. That way was not a good way for them.