Joel Shepherd - Tracato

The fighting had ceased, and bodies lay strewn about the courtyard, and along the road. Desperate men loaded wounded onto carts, then ran off to find a surgeon. Two sections of Steel had arrived, and a third was coming from the other direction at a run, ten men in tight formation, shields slung, labouring up the incline in heavy armour.

Most of the dead and wounded seemed well dressed, tailored shirts and sleek pants now torn and bloodied where they lay. Perhaps twenty dead, Sasha counted, and another twenty wounded…although more had been carried away.

She looked up at the rooftops, and saw crossbowmen surveying the scene. On the courtyard, more men were gathered, blood spattered and wild eyed, to confront the arriving Nasi-Keth. Feudalists all, and expecting more trouble.

Sasha strode forward, empty hands raised. They recognised her, and broke into fast, terse conversation amongst themselves. Sasha recognised Lord Elot, long blade in hand, his embroidered tunic slashed about its broad girth. Long hair plastered to a sweaty forehead beneath his bald dome, his eyes proud, his sword bloodied.

“Lord Elot,” she said in greeting, and several feudalist men moved to her flank.

“Princess Sashandra,” said Lord Elot. Those men around her paused, and made no more threatening move. Princess, he called her, and the men stopped. It was provocative, yet an offer of friendship all the same.

“What happened?” she asked.

“This was arranged,” said Lord Elot, and spat. He seemed a man of cool temper, even in battle. Sasha could not help but admire it. “Your boys came right through our territory, shouting slogans of killing young Lord Alfriedo, and raping his mother.”

“Not my boys.”

“His,” said Elot, and pointed with his sword. Sasha looked, and saw Reynold, surveying the scene. He did not seem shocked. Sasha felt her blood cool. Reynold had ordered the Nasi-Keth not to attend. The Civid Sein were little more than farmers and villagers, some with experience in the Steel, but not many. Feudalists, however, trained with swords for sport, and Elot’s men were far better armed. Reynold must have known they’d be massacred.

“You’ve made them angry now,” said Sasha.

“No doubt the intent,” Elot said bitterly. “The White Lady sits on Council once more, and never mind that half its elected members languish in Justiciary cells. Civid Sein have numbers there now, and tomorrow they vote on the new justices. They’ll be howling, all four appointments shall be Civid Sein or their cronies, you watch.”

“All four.” Sasha gulped more water, thinking fast. Seven justices. A majority vote was required to convict. There were clamours for Lady Renine’s trial on treason…if the Civid Sein could muster four of the seven votes, they’d have her head. “Surely not. Justice Sinidane was just now at the Tol’rhen, asking Kessligh for help with the appointments.”

“He seeks to present the White Lady with an alternative list,” said Elot. “Sinidane is a good man, but Rhillian needs Lady Renine dead; it is the only way to control the mob.”

“You think she’ll fix the appointments?”

“I know it,” said Elot. “Princess Sashandra, your sister is charged with complicity in treason. A Lenay king marches upon our northern border. There are far more who want Princess Alythia’s head than Lady Renine’s. Surely you’ve heard the talk?”

Sasha had heard the talk. Tol’rhen students who liked her had whispered it to her in the hallways, nasty things said by others. Apparently even some students were saying it, echoing what they’d heard demanded out in the courtyard, where angry farmers sharpened their hoes and scythes and called for royal blood. There had been writing on walls, and some effigies found hanging.

“Some are saying it’s Alythia’s plot, and that she is the one who led Lady Renine into treason.”

Elot nodded. “I’d watch my back closely if I were you, Princess. If you wish to save your sister, come on your own at dusk to Shemon Square. It is the only way. Betray us you can, but Shemon Square is feudalist territory, and I know you love your sister well.”

“I will,” Sasha agreed.

Sasha was waiting in the alley when she heard a soft shuffle behind her, and spun. Errollyn was there, a shadow in the evening gloom.

“Damn you!” Sasha whispered, as her heart started again. Errollyn looked one way and the other, bow in hand. The air was hot and still, and there was barely a sound. Even here, on the feudalist midslope not far from the docks, people stayed indoors tonight. “I said I’d come alone!”

“You say a lot of things.”

“They barely trust me!” Sasha insisted, back to the wall so as not to make a silhouette in the fading light. Errollyn leaned alongside. “They’ll certainly not trust a serrin!”

“They will if I’m with you. Everyone knows I’m du’jannah .”

“Aye, well I know that you’re the reason Rhillian started this mess! If they’ve found out you’re the one who spilled Lady Renine’s plans to Rhillian…”

Errollyn reached across her, a hand on the wall by her head, his eyes intense and close. Even now, as well as she knew him, those startlingly bright eyes in the gloom gave Sasha an involuntary chill. “Sasha, Alythia’s my friend too. I’m not sorry for what I did, but I am sorry for Alythia. If you think for a moment, you’ll realise that you need me.”

Need him? Abruptly Sasha recalled their passion in the Tol’rhen store room. She wondered if Errollyn might just take her here in the deserted alley, and did not mind the notion. But looking at his eyes, she realised that he meant his night vision.

She threw her head back in exasperation. “This is crazy. I don’t know whether to fuck you or hit you.”

“Can’t you do both?”

Sasha glared, angry at him for daring to remind her why she loved him.

“Cover me,” she told him, and slipped beneath his arm, edging toward the near corner.

Sasha crept about the courtyard, beneath the cover of arches. Errollyn followed, an arrow nocked to his bowstring, searching the darkness. Ahead, leaning against a column, there was a man in a cloak. A smoke stick flared orange, a gleam beneath his hood. Sasha left her blade sheathed…there was no advantage to feudalists in killing her, or taking her hostage now. But to recruit her to their cause…

“Sashandra,” said the figure. Sasha came closer, and recognised Councillor Dhael.

“Councillor.” She was surprised. She’d not seen Dhael since their voyage together, though she’d heard him spoken of. He was not a feudalist, nor was he said to have as many ties to them as some. “You are still free.”

“Indeed,” said Dhael, tapping his smoke. “There are those in Council who stand taller than I. I’ve long found that those who stick out their necks get their heads chopped off.”

Sasha glanced back at Errollyn, who peered from the shadow of columns, searching the windows above.

“But you work with the feudalists now?” she pressed Dhael. She was here on Lord Elot’s invitation. She did not want her time to be wasted. “I’d taken you for a friend of Saalshen. An idealist.”

“A pacifist,” said Dhael, with irony. “I know how you Lenays must dislike the word. Lord Elot asked me to speak to you.”

“Because you once stood with Saalshen? I still stand with Saalshen. I just want my sister back. The way Rhillian’s replacing high justices, she’ll have the votes to take her head off. Spirits know the people are demanding it.”

“Ah,” said Dhael. “Well, there are no means here to help merely your sister.”

“There’s a plan to help them all escape?” Sasha guessed. “A breakout?”