Joel Shepherd - Tracato

“Feudalist territory,” said Sinidane. “But it could be worse, much of it is feudalist territory, around the Justiciary. When I was a young man, I recall dreaming of the day when all Tracato’s lands would be merely lands and not defined by the loyalties of one group or another.”

“I miss the countryside,” Sasha said sombrely. “When I lived there I had wild, youthful ideals. The longer I stay in cities, the more my ideals choke and die.”

Sinidane regarded her seriously. “I am sorry for it,” he said. “Youthful idealism can be a curse, but without it, civilisations would perish.”

“How many have perished because of it, I wonder?” Sasha replied, looking out at the courtyard.

“Do not despair yet,” said Sinidane. “For as long as the Nasi-Keth have influence over the Civid Sein, I will not give up hope.”

“Kessligh does not believe the Nasi-Keth in Tracato can be led,” said Sasha. “He says their beliefs are too strong to be swayed by him, and they must learn for themselves.”

“Reynold Hein, at least, seems an intelligent, reasonable sort,” Sinidane offered.

“He tried to rape me,” said Sasha. She did not look at him, but she felt his silence, pressing at her side. It was important that he knew. So much more important than her own wounded honour. When she did finally look at him, she saw something in the old man’s eyes that chilled her.

Fear.

Kessligh climbed the steps to join them, with clacks of his staff. “Your Justice.”

“Yuan Kessligh. Or would you prefer Ulenshaal?”

“The Nasi-Keth will not be marching with them,” said Kessligh, ignoring the question. “Reynold Hein has forbidden it.”

“That’s something at least,” said Sinidane.

“Something, yes. Good or bad, I don’t know.”

Sinidane look at Sasha, then at Kessligh. Wondering, perhaps, if Kessligh knew what Sasha had just told him. Sasha did not know herself. Perhaps Sinidane saw, or guessed.

“Something I wished to ask you,” said Sinidane, skipping over the issue entirely. “Four of the seven senior justices have been dismissed by Lady Rhillian.”

“Only four?” Kessligh did not appear particularly surprised. “Generous of her, I hadn’t thought she liked even three of you.”

“My own position with the feudalists is now somewhat difficult,” Sinidane explained, “since I helped her to select the four dismissed.”

At least half of the senior justices, it was common knowledge, and considerably more of the junior ones, were in the pay of the feudalists. Sinidane alone remained beyond reproach. No doubt the two others selected to stay were under Rhillian’s duress…and probably Sinidane had helped to arrange that too. It was a bold move from a stubbornly principled man, who knew where many skeletons were buried.

“And now you’d like me to suggest men from the Nasi-Keth to fill some of the vacancies,” said Kessligh. Sasha wondered if he and Sinidane had talked of this before. Perhaps not…where else were Sinidane and Rhillian going to find educated scholars of law, with independent hearts, to fill such seats?

“I’d ask for you yourself,” Sinidane affirmed, “but you’re needed here.”

“For what good it will do. I will ask some of those best suited, but I can’t promise you anything.”

“Good enough.”

“Your Justice, how is my sister?” Sasha asked.

“Dear girl,” he said, “I’m afraid I cannot know. We justices are not to be directly involved in the affairs of prisoners in the Justiciary.”

“I know that.” Sasha scuffed at the steps with a boot, frustrated. “Just make sure she’s looked after. You can at least ask someone to see to that.”

“The Justiciary is independent, dear girl,” said Justice Sinidane, sadly. “Would that I could intervene.”

“You’ll find that you can.” Sasha gave him a deadly stare.

“Sasha,” Kessligh warned her.

Sasha waved a hand in angry frustration, and strode back to the crowd.

News of the fighting arrived in the late afternoon, as Sasha struggled to take her class of Rhodaani youngsters through the works of Tullamayne in the Lenay tongue.

“Wait here!” she told them, jumping off her podium and snatching her sword. Out in the hall, many were running, shouts echoing off the high ceiling. In snatches of Rhodaani, and distant Torovan, she heard “High Road,” and “Justiciary,” several times. A fair run then.

She turned back to grab her waterskin, and found her way blocked by eager boys ignoring her instruction. “Where the crap are you lot going?” she asked them, pushing through to her podium. “You’re not going outside.”

“But, M’Lady!” Willem protested. Several more ignored her, and ran out into the hall. Others followed.

“Hey!” Sasha yelled, returning with her skin. “All right, get out, see what you can do and obey your seniors !”

They ran before her, all boys, for no Rhodaani girl thought the Lenay tongue a suitably feminine subject. Sometimes Sasha wondered if she were the only sane human woman in the world, or the least.

She ran from the hall, dodging traffic, and paused at the broad atrium to join the gathering who were filling waterskins at the basin.

“Sasha!” called Daish from nearby. “I hear there’s fighting!” He looked excited at the prospect. She saw Reynold Hein nearby, with several Civid Sein friends, and scowled.

Errollyn came running, bow in hand but with no water. “Borrow mine,” said Sasha. “Let’s go.”

They ran down the marble stairs. Sasha had no idea how the Tol’rhen remained so cool, for the air was stifling, despite the shade between buildings. The streets remained quieter than usual, a few clattering carts, some servants on errands, a running messenger. Elesther Road ran through the city and away from the bustling back alleys and courtyards of neighbouring districts. Working class folk did not venture so much here.

“Is it the march?” Errollyn asked as they ran.

“What the hells do you think?” Sasha snapped. “Of course it’s the fucking march, they were spoiling for a fight from the moment they left. Reynold set this up.”

Errollyn said nothing. Sasha knew she should not have snarled at him, but damned if she’d apologise. If Errollyn had kept his mouth shut, Rhillian might not have moved to take over the city at all.

“Spirits know what Rhillian thinks she’s up to, giving the Civid Sein free rein like this,” she muttered. “The marchers were all shouting for Civid Sein friendly justiciars to replace the ones Rhillian dismissed, and if she gives in, the Civid Sein will control the Justiciary…what the hells was she thinking?”

As fit as she was, Sasha was not accustomed to running in such heat, and as she and Errollyn reached the first of the Civid Sein column, she was dripping sweat and gasping. A crowd of men swarmed on the road, most retreating, many terrified. Some carried wounded, others tended to those who had collapsed by the side of the road, unable to run further. Sasha had seen victory and defeat on the battlefield, and this looked like defeat.

They passed carts piled with bodies, dripping streams of blood onto the cobbles. Some Civid Sein were crying, others rallying their comrades to rush back to the battle. But there was no momentum for it, and Sasha ran past without bothering to counsel them otherwise.

Errollyn led them onto High Road, a right turn upslope, following the trail of the rout. Sasha paused to drain some water, then resumed, finding her second wind on the toughest part of the run. Other Nasi-Keth were ahead of them now, as Errollyn held back to wait for her.

About a bend, and here rose the great Merley Inn, overlooking the Justiciary and Ushal Fortress both from atop a high hill. It was perhaps the highest point in Tracato, and a cool wind blew off the sea that chilled her sweat-a beautiful scene, were it not for all the blood.