Joel Shepherd - Tracato

“It is well known that the institutions of Tracato are crawling with the feudalists’ paid men,” Sevarien bellowed. “As a serrin who does not suffer such impulses of greed, you should know the corrupting influence of wealth on men’s morality and reason. We demand a purge of feudalists from the Justiciary and other institutions. We shall not leave until our demands are heard!”

Rhillian knew the Civid Sein well enough. They were the poor folk of the countryside, distrusting of cityfolk, of wealth, power and nobility. Many idolised neighbouring Enora, and hoped to implement a similar purge of nobility as Enora had done two hundred years before. As always, amidst humanity, there was no commonality. Even now, despite her many years’ experience with humans, she had to remind herself of it. Where serrin shared the vel’ennar , humans felt nothing to bind one to the other, save that which they created in their religion and ideology. And could kill each other on a whim, and feel only justification.

“Your demands have been heard,” Rhillian said sharply. “I hear them, we all hear them. Now leave, before I have you rounded up and thrown in the dungeons.”

Ulenshaal Sevarien drew himself up, bristling. “And how do you propose to do that? We are the people ! Should you arrest us all, a hundred times our number shall be on your doorstep by this evening!” Angry, defiant shouts echoed him. Rhillian was aware of justiciary guards closing on her flanks, protectively.

“You listen to me,” she said icily to the big Ulenshaal. Beneath that stare, he paled, just a little. “The feudalists have tried to take control in Tracato, and for that, they shall pay. Now you tell me that you would take control in Tracato, through demands and threats of riot. For that, you shall pay. Now tell me again, do you threaten my authority?”

Somewhere behind her, Lieutenant Raine must have given a signal, for the blades of the justiciary guard came out all at once.

Ulenshaal Sevarien blinked at her. “You wouldn’t dare!” he exclaimed. About the Justiciary hall, all movement, all conversation had stopped. From the entrance, more Steel dharmi came running.

“The voice of the people will be heard,” Rhillian assured him. “You may make an application through the appropriate channels. The arms of the people, however, shall be mute. I have the Steel. Do not try me, or I shall crush you.”

“Sevarien!” yelled a new voice, female and strangely familiar. Rhillian looked, and saw a Nasi-Keth girl, short haired in pants and jacket, walking close. Rhillian stared. “Sevarien, best you leave.”

“Sashandra,” Sevarien retorted, “you don’t understand the gravity…!”

“Rhillian will deal with the feudalists!” came the angry reply. “Don’t pick fights with your friends.”

Sevarien took a deep breath and signalled for his party to withdraw. He may have bowed, or spoken something more, but Rhillian did not notice. She had eyes only for Sashandra. Aisha was with her, and a pair of Nasi-Keth lads Rhillian did not know.

“So,” said Sashandra, as the Civid Sein departed. Her eyes flicked to register the guards’ swords being sheathed, then refocused on Rhillian. They were dark, hard and beautiful. “You command Tracato now?”

“For the moment,” said Rhillian. She recalled Halrhen, and Triana, dead upon the stern of their ship on Petrodor harbour, cut down by Sasha’s blade. Recalled telling Arendele of Triana’s death, upon coming to Tracato. Recalled holding him while he sobbed, and imagining crossing blades once more with the traitor whom she’d once been so foolish as to consider a friend. But humans made poor friends, she’d learned. Kiel had always insisted so-she hadn’t believed him in Petrodor, for softheartedness, for wishful thinking, for misguided philosophies of coexistence between human and serrin. That night, on the ship in Petrodor harbour, had been the final stone on the tomb of her compassion, for this one in particular. “What brings you?”

“I’m here to see my sister.”

“She plots with feudalists,” said Rhillian, icily. “What of you?”

There was even less motion among those surrounding now than before. The very air seemed deadly, frozen with hostility. Svaalverd warrior that she was, Rhillian could read posture like a book. Before her stood one of the very best, feet barely a half-breadth from the opening tana stance, hands free, muscles tense with expectation. One twitch could see a blade in her hand. Another could kill any within reach. Her own stance, Rhillian realised, was barely different.

“She probably does plot with feudalists,” Sasha admitted, her voice hard. “She’s a naïve fool with no clue how they would use her, despite my warnings. But I won’t let you hurt my sister.”

“You will submit to the law,” said Rhillian. “The law is not in my hands.”

“But it will be,” said Sashandra, with certainty. “Just as in Petrodor, when the diversity is removed, there’s only one faction left in power. Be it yours, or be it someone else’s, the result is the same.”

“The law resides in this building,” Rhillian replied. “I defend it, as surely the feudalists would not, should they have attained the power they were plotting. I will submit to it, and you shall, and your sister shall, or there is nothing here to defend.”

“ Anyone but you,” Sasha snapped, “and I might believe them. You’re serrin, and this game you don’t understand! How many cities will it take, Rhillian?”

Rhillian recalled the flames. Recalled the howling mobs, her friends hacked to pieces before her eyes. It wasn’t her fault. It couldn’t have been. “It was your game too. You’re as responsible as I.”

“You gave Maerler the Shereldin Star! You wanted the slaughter that followed! You killed thousands , with that one bloody act!”

“They threatened, Saalshen. They were weakened.”

“Aye, you weakened them so much Patachi Steiner declared himself king, and now marches to war against us! With leadership like that, you don’t need enemies, you’ll be the end of the serrinim all by yourself!”

Rhillian could have killed her, right there. She struggled for breath, and fought to keep her hands from trembling. Sashandra must have seen the fury in her eyes, but unlike most, she did not flinch. Rhillian knew she could not draw, not against this one. As formidable as she was herself, against Sashandra, no fight was evenly matched.

“What proof do you have of Lady Renine’s treason?” Sasha pressed. “It seems ambitious even for her.”

“Go and ask Errollyn,” Rhillian said. “He gave me the evidence. This is all his doing.”

Sasha stared at her. And blinked. “Errollyn?”

Rhillian was surprised. Sasha hadn’t known? “Yes, Errollyn. It’s good to see that at least one of you has some idea of the nature of your new friends.”

She stalked off, gesturing Lieutenant Raine to follow. Sasha stood in disbelief and watched them go.

S CHWEET , SPOKE YASMYN’S DARAK AGAINST A WHETSTONE. Schweet , in long strokes above the clatter of carriage wheels on pavings.

Sherdaine had walls. Sofy stared out the window of her carriage, and marvelled at the sight of them, sheer and gleaming grey in the bright, afternoon sunshine. It was said that in all the Bacosh wars, Sherdaine had only been sacked twice, and both of those a time long before the construction of these latest walls. The battlements stretched a long way, enclosing what was surely the largest city Sofy had ever seen.