Joel Shepherd - Haven

Sofy was kneeling before the shrine in her tent, maids daubing her hair and hands with scented oils, when another maid entered to tell her of the new arrivals. Sofy scowled, and gave her reply.

“It is not proper for the Princess Regent to receive a male visitor within her chambers,” announced Sister Mardola from beside the shrine. She sat with a book of scripture upon her lap, paused now in her recital of the verse of Harienne.

“I must see him,” said Sofy, still frowning. “My Lenay family have sent him, he is to be my protection.”

“You have twenty knights of Larosa to your personal guard,” the sister reprimanded. “You have no need of any other.”

“It is the gods' will that one cannot change one's family,” Sofy said firmly. Sister Mardola looked severely displeased. She did that a lot.

Sofy remained kneeling for the rest of the recital, then took a sip of holy water in consecration and was blessed by the Almin Star. The star was then placed about her neck, and she rose and took a black silk shawl in which to receive her guest.

Jaryd was admitted through the front entrance of the tent. He looked up and about in amazement at the sheer size of the interior. Silk drapes divided the living space into sections, drifting in a slight breeze. There were furnishings too, light but expensive, and great rugs for the floor of grass.

Jaryd dressed as a Lenay warrior would, and a high status one at that-a leather jacket over a chain vest. The jacket had thick shoulder guards, his riding gloves bore steel studs, and there were spurs on his boots. His sword was a big Lenay two-hander, and the knife through the front of his belt was nearly the size of an Isfayen darak.

He looked at her now, and stifled a laugh. Sofy folded her arms crossly.

“What?” she snapped.

“No, you look good,” Jaryd managed. “Nice stones.” Meaning the jewellery. “And the, um, other stuff.”

“What the hells was Sasha thinking to send you?” Sofy retorted.

“Damon's idea too, and Koenyg agreed.”

“Aye, couldn't be happier to be rid of you, I'm sure.”

Sister Mardola cleared her throat. “The gentleman will kindly speak in a lowland tongue in my prescence,” she announced. They had of course been speaking Lenay.

Jaryd frowned at the sister. “Who's the old bat?” he asked Sofy in their native tongue.

Sofy rolled her eyes in exasperation. “The gentleman does not speak a lowlands tongue,” she lied. “I will speak with him as we can both understand.”

She gestured impatiently for Jaryd to come and sit on a leather-upholstered chair. Sister Mardola followed, and maids rushed to attend them, and offer drinks, fruit, and biscuits. Jaryd accepted all, hungry as ever, with more disbelieving mirth at all the activity.

“Well, this is a lovely arrangement,” he remarked.

“Will you just stop it?” Sofy retorted. It didn't help that he looked so…well, good, she admitted to herself in frustration. His eyes were alive with unreasonable cheer for these circumstances. Seeing him so carefree, she could feel resentment building. “Why are you here?”

“Because neither Sasha nor Damon feels particularly comfortable with you being here all alone.”

“As you can see,” Sofy said coldly, “I am very far from alone.”

Jaryd glanced about, and sipped his tea. “That's a matter of opinion.”

“Jaryd, I don't know what you think you're doing here, but I'm on a very important mission. Tracato is a treasure, and I intend to see it saved. I hear the Lord Alfriedo Renine is being proclaimed the new lord of all Rhodaan and Tracato, and I hear that he is a very intelligent boy. I will negotiate with him and I will find a way to bring him and all of Rhodaan into my husband's fold, with as little damage to all parties as possible.”

Jaryd's expression sobered a little. “And what does Prince Dafed say about this?”

Sofy smoothed the dress in her lap. “Dafed is a warrior,” she said. “He will negotiate military matters. He has little interest in other things.”

She was not pleased that Balthaar's brother Dafed had come too. He was not pleased, either, to be sent away from the advancing army in order to collect this trophy for his brother's new crown. But Tracato was close to Elisse, and the Elissians had not been destroyed as a fighting force in the recent war against Rhodaan. There were alliances to forge, and Dafed was here to forge them, then to lead the Elissians south, to rejoin Balthaar in his advance. Dafed, Sofy was reasonably sure, would not get in her way.

Jaryd shook his head in faint disbelief. “Sofy, your husband's priests want all of this destroyed. You've ridden in the Bacosh column, you've seen what even the common soldiers are doing to Rhodaan….”

“They appeared quite restrained from what I saw.”

In an instant, Jaryd's good humour vanished. He regarded her with something she had not seen him direct at her before. Not quite contempt, but a distinct lack of respect. Perhaps pity.

“It may look that way from safe within your gilded cage,” he said coolly. “I can assure you otherwise.”

Sofy felt cold. She looked about in distraction, and hugged her shawl closer. And suddenly, in desperation, she came to the edge of her chair. “Oh, Jaryd, I know it's hard! These two peoples, they've been separated by so much hatred and mistrust for so long…but I have to try, Jaryd! I've always been a good peacemaker, I've done it between my siblings, I've sometimes even done it between Lenay lords, and they're no easy mark. Surely I can find some common ground between my husband's new rule, and the old ways of Rhodaan…and possibly Enora and Ilduur too one day!”

Jaryd sighed. He nodded to her jewellery, and the Idys Mark on her forehead. “You observe the Idys too. The old Lenay ways.”

Sofy nodded enthusiastically. “There was some opposition, but I told them that whatever my new title, I am Lenay and I shall practise the old Lenay traditions also. All new Lenay brides observe the Idys, and I shall too.”

The Idys Mark was a dark oval spot on her forehead, in the shape of an eye. The Idys was one of the old spirits, thought to bring fertility and wisdom alike.

“Do you see, Jaryd?” she continued. “I'm trying to bring peoples and customs together. I am Princess Regent of the Bacosh, and I observe their customs, yet I am also a princess of Lenayin. I can show by example that two such different peoples and cultures can exist side by side. And if I can bring that example to Tracato, perhaps I can save that great treasure, and it can enlighten all of the Bacosh and far beyond!”

Jaryd said nothing. Sofy did not think that she had convinced him. But she could see that he was not surprised at her passion, and indeed, wore that familiar look of wry defeat. He knew her so well. Perhaps it would not be a bad thing to have him on this trip after all.

“And how about you?” she asked more kindly. “You've been spending a lot more time amongst the Goeren-yai of late. Do you feel yourself a true Goeren-yai now?”

Jaryd shrugged. “I don't know,” he sighed. “And that's the wonderful thing about it.” Sofy frowned, not understanding. Jaryd smiled. “No one cares. My Goeren-yai comrades, they don't quiz me about my beliefs, they don't threaten to expel me if I don't know all the words to their tales or all the beats to their rhythm. They know me as a warrior and as a man, and that's enough for them.”

“But there are many customs and practices amongst the Goeren-yai,” Sofy pressed. Jaryd could be so naive in his lack of understanding these complexities, and she was suddenly worried. “If you are to call yourself Goeren-yai and be accepted by them, you must take their beliefs and customs seriously, Jaryd….”