Joel Shepherd - Sasha

There was about the room another flurry of spirit signs and the muttering of oaths. In some faces now, there was real fear. Krayliss surveyed the commotion with a dark, furrowed stare.

"I don't believe her!" pronounced another. "The men of Hadryn are bastards, yet their swordsmanship is unquestioned! Perhaps only the smallest handful of men could defeat so many! No woman has such skill with a blade to take four in the manner described! Only a woman of Saalshen could manage such a feat, and a great one at that!"

"Exactly!" retorted another. "A serrin woman could manage such a feat because the serrin walk with the spirits!"

An uproar followed, men shouting argument and counterargument at close, heated range. In several quarters, pushing broke out, quickly separated by cooler heads before it could escalate. To Sasha's left, Damon was staring about in disbelief. To her right, Kessligh simply folded his arms and waited, as many times he had waited for a much younger Sashandra Lenayin to cease her raging tempers before insisting just as firmly upon the very thing that had caused them. Sasha simply watched Lord Krayliss, unafraid now of meeting his gaze. Krayliss stared back, unmoved within the commotion.

Perhaps he expected her gaze to drop. Anger burned in Sasha's stare. A warning, when the others were not looking. And it was Krayliss's eyes that widened, in surprise and anger, from the power of that meeting.

"Enough!" he yelled, a broad fist held high, and the clamour eased as quickly as it had begun. "Such debates should wait for a later hour," he said darkly. "We have other business to attend to. Prince Damon rides to serve the justice of Baen-Tar. Little enough hope do we of the Goeren-yai have in the justice of Verenthane kings..

It was said with great sarcasm and brought a harsh laugh from many of those surrounding.

"He comes to us with a mind full of questions!" Krayliss announced, in louder, defiantly jovial tones. "He wishes to know the cause of our old friend Lord Rashyd's death, and the reason his son stands upon our gate with his blade in the turf, stamping his little temper tantrum now that papa is no longer about to spank his skinny backside!"

Another laugh from the men and some mugs were raised in salute. Krayliss turned to Damon with defiant confidence. "Yes, I slew Lord Rashyd! His priests came to harass the Gessyl townsfolk and I rode to see them off! Rashyd crossed our border uninvited and confronted us! He spurred his horse against my people and I slew him for his insolence! And what, Prince of Lenayin, shall you do about it?"

"Take you to Baen-Tar for a judgment at the king's pleasure," Damon replied. Sasha blinked at Damon, unable to believe she'd heard such a decisive statement, so coolly delivered, in the face of such defiance. For a moment, the entire hall seemed hushed with similar surprise.

Krayliss threw back his head and laughed. "The young prince has some balls after all!" he roared, to an eruption of laughter that shook the ceiling. "And how do you propose to achieve this monumental feat, young Lenayin?"

"I shall await the arrival of my line companies," Damon said icily, "and we shall join forces with the Hadryn. Should you refuse to comply with my order, we shall kill you all."

Another silence followed. Sasha's stomach tried rapidly to tie itself in knots, to her great displeasure. There was a fine line, where most men of her experience were concerned, between balls and stupidity. Only Kessligh could be reliably expected to find that precarious balance with consistency.

"My father's law is quite clear," Damon continued. "Lord Rashyd deserved a censure for his conduct. He did not deserve death. Your punishment can only be decided by the king himself, upon a full presentation of the facts. My task, I see now, is to take you there within the custody of the crown. Should you refuse, your life is forfeit. I therefore suggest, Lord of Taneryn, that you do not refuse. For the sake of your people."

Lord Krayliss's already vast girth seemed to swell even larger with rage. "And from what time have the Verenthanes of Baen-Tar cared for the people of Taneryn?" he snarled, bushy eyebrows and beard seeming to bristle like a great wild animal. "Even now the king calls a great Rathynal, to force his tame Verenthane lords to approve his decision to march to war in the lowlands! A war in the Bacosh, with whom we have no interest whatsoever! A war for Verenthane causes and the profit of lowlands merchants! With such do the Verenthanes of the towns and cities seek to protect their ill-gotten wealth and prestige-with the blood of poor Goeren-yai farmers who have no interest in your foreign causes and false titles!

"Who but me will speak for the Goeren-yai? Who but me is left to speak?" He roared to the assembled men. "It was royal Verenthanes like this one who appointed only Verenthane lords to the provinces! It was they who belittled us, scattered us, patronised and left us to our fates at the hands of Hadryn tyrants! Of all the Udalyn descendants, I am the greatest of rank and the greatest of honour! Who but me will speak for the true, the ancient, the rightful people of Lenayin!"

The roar that followed paled all those previous, a deafening thunder that threatened to split Sasha's ears. There followed the heavy, rhythmic stamping of boots on flagstones, accompanied by the hard clapping of hands. Krayliss surveyed his new commotion, wiping his beard of the spittle that now hung there, residue of his outburst. Pride burned in his eyes, vain and spiteful. This was a man, Sasha saw only too well, who was prepared to die for his cause. No matter how many others he took with him to his pyre.

"Entertaining," Sasha remarked as they walked from beneath the gates of Halleryn. "Nothing like a bit of open hostility to develop the appetite."

"I've had worse meals," Damon muttered, tugging on his riding gloves for warmth.

"When?" Sasha asked, pulling her cloak more firmly about her.

"Anytime someone thinks it a grand idea to get me together with Maryd Banys of Ranash, and her mother."

Sasha frowned at that. The sound of the wind above the vast, moonless dark of the lake held an eerie power. Yet, for all the frozen chill of the open night, it was a relief indeed to be free of that hall and the dark stares and muttered, suspicious conversation about the long table. "Maryd is the eldest daughter?" she asked.

Damon grunted in reply.

"I've made her acquaintance," Jaryd remarked helpfully. He'd been attempting to appear untroubled all night but, to Sasha's eye, he looked unsettled. For a young man previously uninterested in the lordly affairs of Lenayin, such encounters were surely a lot to digest. "She's very pretty, think you not, Prince Damon?"

"Aye, she's pretty," Damon muttered. "The wits of a chicken and the charm of a leech, but she's pretty. Dinner with Krayliss was a pleasant affair compared to that." Sasha shot Kessligh a glance and could have sworn she saw him smile.

"So Father wishes you to marry a Ranash girl?" Sasha questioned further, with considerable distaste. "A northerner?"

"Koenyg's idea," Damon said, gazing off across the dark lake as the road approached the shore.

"Two northern sisters-in-law," Sasha said with displeasure. "I'm not sure I could stand it. Wyna Telgar is enough."

"Poor girl," Damon retorted. "You wouldn't have to share her bed for the rest of your life, you've nothing to complain about."

"I think we must be talking of two different Maryd Banyses," Jaryd said quizzically. "The girl I mean is sweet-faced, black-haired with blue eyes and a full bosom…"

"And what interesting topics have you discussed with her, Master Jaryd?" Damon asked. "Have you spent more than a heartbeat in her presence? Or merely admired her bosom from afar?"

"It's a very nice bosom, Your Highness."