Joel Shepherd - Haven

“We can,” said Rhillian with a faint smile. “Just watch.”

“Oh, and Sasha,” said Kessligh, remembering something. He reached into a pocket, and pulled out something that might have been a bracelet. He tossed it to her. “En eth'athal. You are free.”

Sasha frowned, and looked at the bracelet. It was an emyl , a traditional Lenay bracelet, to be given by father to daughter when she left home with her new husband. Traditionally it marked the coming of womanhood, while still affirming the ties with her old family, helping her to recall where she was from. Some joked that it was a warning, from father to new in-laws, that if they mistreated his daughter, they would still have him to answer to.

Then Sasha recalled what Kessligh had said. About the fireplace, people were smiling. “Oh, come on,” she exclaimed, “you have to make a bigger effort than that! You can't just cut me loose with a bracelet!”

Everyone laughed. “I got it in Tracato,” said Kessligh. “From a trader who didn't really know what it was, only that it looked pretty.”

Sasha pulled it tight around her wrist. It wrapped well and would not flap about, far better for a swordfighter than a necklace that would bounce around. Sasha had never worn jewellery before in her life.

“It is pretty,” she said. It was made of leather strips, three bands like her tri-braid, and steel rings. And an embedded amulet, of obsidian, shaped like the sun. Nothing fancy, but heavy with meaning. It suited her well. “Thank you.”

She got up and embraced him. She was no longer his uma now, and those thirteen and more years of trial had come to an end.

“I should have done it a while ago,” Kessligh admitted, reading her mind. “But there was never a good time.”

“And ‘growing up’ is always relative with Sasha,” Damon added. Sasha scowled at him.

“This is a curious combination of customs,” Rhillian observed. “A Lenay emyl with the uma'lanin .”

Sasha looked at the bracelet as she lay in bed with Errollyn later that night, her bare arm in the air, lit by orange coals. Around them was forest, with only a few other serrin camps. Privacy, for the two of them, on their one and only night together.

Errollyn held up his own arm, with the armguard marks still about his own wrist, where an archer would always wear it. He had other marks too, deep scars. Sasha's scars were more faded, but a few would never fade completely.

“Look,” she murmured. “Some couples have matching jewellery. We have matching scars.”

“I think perhaps what some call ‘character’ is in reality just a collection of scars,” he replied.

Sasha smiled. “In Isfayen, they say, ‘Never trust a man with no enemies’. In Valhanan, they say, ‘Never trust a man with no scars.’”

“The older I get, the more Lenay I become. How disturbing.”

Sasha buried her head against his shoulder, and they lay together beneath blankets, and listened to the night wind in the trees.

The School of Arts and Music was closer to Sofy's idea of heaven than anything scripture had described. She sat in a great recital hall and listened to the most talented musicians she'd ever seen play the most wonderful compositions she'd ever heard. Her retinue sat about, clustered Tracato nobility, some high-ranking red-coats, even a few Ulenshaals from the Tol'rhen, the great Nasi-Keth centre of learning. Jeddie sat at her side, entranced.

Along the walls stood knights of her Larosan personal guard in full armour, and Blackboots of the local Tracatan militia. She had not wished to attract such a crowd, but her tours of the city were all the talk on the streets, and Tracatan society followed her, literally. She'd toured perhaps half of all the grand buildings and institutions of Tracato, and she'd been here three days. So far, the School of Arts and Music was her favourite.

“What a wonderful concept!” she exclaimed to the Tracatan Premier Chiron, who walked at her side as she reluctantly took her leave. “I had never thought to make a central place for talent in an art such as music.”

“And how is music practised in Lenayin?” Chiron asked politely.

“Well, as a part of life. Music is everywhere in Lenayin, at weddings and dinners and celebrations of all sorts, but it is something passed on from father to son in villages all over Lenayin, not in the one central place.”

Her mind was alive with possibilities. Imagine starting such a school in Lenayin. She should suggest it to Koenyg, he was the one who'd insisted that this war would bring civilisation back to Lenayin. Well, perhaps that civilisation could start here.

Premier Chiron walked with her to the grand entrance. He was a small man, polite, serious and dour. Sofy thought he had good reason to be dour, given his position. Tracatans still called him “premier”; as head of the Rhodaani Council he had occupied a position equivalent to king, or at least to Lord of Rhodaan. But now Prince Dafed brought word from his brother Balthaar that no councils would be recognised, and all such institutions were disbanded effective immediately.

Dafed held court in the stronghold of Family Renine, the Ushal Fortress. Sofy, however, had declined similar quarters, preferring an offer from the Tol'rhen Ulenshaals to quarter there, in that amazing building. Sasha's descriptions had not done it justice, and from there the rest of Tracato lay at her doorstep. She could not recall having enjoyed herself as much as she had these last three days. Tracato was everything a grand civilisation should surely aspire to be-wealthy, philosophical, diverse, artistic. She could not quite believe that she, the younger princess of a highland kingdom far away, was now the Princess Regent of all of this…and soon, if her husband's victories continued, its queen.

She could make this work. Surely she could.

Jeddie gushed to the premier of the wonders she had seen, as they emerged at the doorstep of the school's main entrance. In the courtyard before the road, crowds of people gathered. Knights and men-at-arms of her entourage held them back from several royal carriages and a large number of saddled horses, but now the people all surged forward, and cheered just to see her. Sofy waved with delight. She had not expected a reception quite this positive-these were conquered people, whose army had not lost a war in two centuries, and now retreated in humiliation to Enora, leaving Tracato defenceless. Yet now they received her as though she were their liberation.

She made her way through the jostling crowds, accepting flowers offered to her by several, waving and smiling at others. Beside the royal carriage, she found Jaryd waiting for her.

“Where have you been?” she asked with a sudden affectation of disdain. She climbed into the carriage. Jaryd followed, and a noble who had been about to join her was forced to look for alternative transport. Jeddie and Premier Chiron did join her, the carriage only big enough for four.

“Around,” said Jaryd, adjusting his sword to fit against the seat. The carriage doors shut, and they clattered off. “Dafed holds council with representatives of the Elissians. I think you should too.”

“Jaryd, I have no time,” Sofy replied, waving to the crowds. “There is so much to learn about this city, I am quite content to leave talk of armies and such to Dafed-that was Balthaar's intention in sending him. I am here to think in larger terms, about what will become of Tracato under my husband's rule.”

“Sofy, the Elissians have an army, thousands strong, half a day's march from the city. Many of them want revenge for their most recent defeat, and if they grow upset enough, you won't have a city here.”

“Balthaar will not see this city destroyed,” said Sofy. “That's why he sent me, in full knowledge of my predilections. I mean, what an enormous risk for him, Jaryd. A new wife, from a faraway land distrusted by so many of his advisors, and he grants me a responsibility so large as this. He is making a statement to his allies about how his rule shall be. He admires the power of Tracato, and wishes to learn from it. I shall help him do so.”