Sasha (52 page)

“Who are you?” she asked, thinking furiously.

The leader, to her further surprise, appeared to be struggling to find the right key. He tried one, then another, muttering to himself when they did not fit. As his head bowed, some long hair spilled from within the hood. Not a northerner, then. “Patience, Princess, patience,” he said, evidently through gritted teeth. The voice seemed familiar.

Finally, a key fit, and turned with a squeal of rusted mechanism. He took the lamp back from his companion, pushed the prison gate inward and threw back his hood. Long, partly braided red hair fell clear in the light, and familiar, roughened features…and Sasha blinked.

“Teriyan?” she exclaimed. Her old friend grinned, appearing to find her astonishment amusing. “What the hells are you up to?”

“Insurrection,” he said shortly, and stood aside. “Come, let's go.” Sasha stood frozen where she was. “Come on!” Teriyan said impatiently. “I'll explain on the way, there's no time to waste gawking.”

Sasha went, having little other choice, and Teriyan placed a hand on her back and ushered her up the hall. The other two men followed. “What's going on?” Sasha demanded, keeping her voice low as they passed empty cell after cold, empty cell.

“Goeren-yai in these parts are having a little disagreement with your father,” Teriyan said, in a similarly low voice. “It's all organised, nothing for you to worry about.”

Somehow, Sasha did not find that reassuring in the slightest. “What kind of disagreement?” she retorted. “Organised by whom?” They climbed several steps and stepped through the open metal gate. Teriyan paused to lock it again behind them. The lamp threw wavering light up the length of the dank, gloomy hallway ahead, and revealed it deserted.

“A few friends,” Teriyan said vaguely.

“How did you get past the guards?” Sasha demanded, growing angry at the lack of information. She rounded to face him as they strode, but he grabbed her arm and pulled her onward. “What are you up to?”

“Don't the serrin say patience is a virtue?” Teriyan retorted. “Why don't you show a little and shut up for a moment?”

“Great,” Sasha exclaimed beneath her breath. “The next time you say that you'll explain on the way, don't wonder why I won't believe you.”

They climbed a longer flight of stone steps and emerged into a guardroom holding another six cloaked figures. Seated on the floor in one corner, tied and gagged, were four prison guards. Not very many, it occurred to her. One of the cloaked figures approached to hand her her weapons.

“Andreyis?” she recognised, as there was more light to penetrate the shadows here. The young man looked extremely apprehensive. Sasha took her blade, secure in its scabbard, and shrugged off her cloak to begin fastening it to the bandoleer at her back. “What's going on?”

Andreyis looked to Teriyan and back in confusion. “He didn't tell you?”

“No damn time, I tell you,” Teriyan growled. He, and all the men, seemed to be expecting discovery at any moment. “She'll just want to argue, let's move fast and argue later.”

“I'll stand here and argue about what you're not telling me!” Sasha exclaimed, finishing with her scabbard and bending to strap the knife to her ankle. “I'm not going anywhere until I know what kind of hare-brained scheme you've gone and hatched without my…”

“There,” Teriyan said to Andreyis in exasperation, “I told you, didn't I?”

“We're riding to the Udalyn!” Andreyis said breathlessly. “We're riding to save them from the Hadryn!”

Sasha stared at him, aghast. “Just like that?”

“No, not just like that!” Teriyan said sharply. “You think we're stupid? It's been planned, girl! The only thing we didn't count on was you being stupid enough to get caught in Koenyg's damn charge…”

“Planned? What's been planned? How many men?”

“Lots,” Teriyan said grimly.

Sasha stared, her head spinning. How could this have happened without her knowledge? How could Teriyan be involved? He was a leather worker and town senior in Baerlyn, what in the world would he have to do with some Goeren-yai plot to rescue the Udalyn?

She looked at Andreyis. He nodded, anxiously. “Lots of men, Sasha,” he confirmed. “The Falcon Guard, for starters. They said if we got Master Jaryd out, they'd come.”

There was a flickering light emerging from another passageway, and then three men appeared, two Goeren-yai flanking a limping wreck that had once been a handsome lordling. Jaryd had no sling for his arm, the left forearm bound only with dirty bandages enfolding a pair of short splints. His torn pants revealed bloody bandages about his left thigh. His face was mottled with bruising, one eye entirely closed, his lips swollen and covered with dried blood and grime. His hair was a mess and there was a bloody sword in his hand.

Teriyan stared at the sword, then at Jaryd's two rescuers. “What the hells happened?” he said sharply.

The rescuers looked uncomfortable. “There were two Tyree lordlings posted guard. We overpowered them. We…he asked for a sword, we didn't think he'd just…”

“Oh great,” Teriyan said in exasperation. “So what was a great and righteous rescue is now the murder of innocent Tyree lordlings! That'll help. Both of them?”

“Just one,” Jaryd rasped. Sasha did not recognise the voice. His good eye was cold, emotionless. “Mykel Mellat. I told him I'd kill him. He didn't believe me. He thought it was funny. Isn't laughing now, is he?”

“Now look, Master Verenthane,” Teriyan growled, “I only agreed to drag you out of this place because your guardsmen demanded it and we need ’em. You're going to put that damn sword away and shut your damn mouth, and…”

Jaryd raised his blade at Teriyan, an awkward, one-armed, one-legged stance. “I'm not taking orders from you. Understand?”

Teriyan snorted, not even bothering to draw his own blade. “What are you going to do, hop after me?”

Sasha stepped between them. “Jaryd.” Staring past the point of his blade. “I'm sorry about Tarryn. I lost a brother too. I know what it's like.”

“Your brother was a prince, in armour, on a horse, with a blade in his hand. Mine was a little boy with a knife.” There was emotion in his good eye now, and his speech, past swollen lips, was thick with fury. “I'm not going on your damn crusade. I've men to kill.”

“In that condition.”

“Aye,” Jaryd muttered, lowering the blade. “In this condition.”

“You're Commander of the Falcon Guard,” Sasha said harshly. “They've asked for you to lead them. Had they not, you would not be free.”

“I resign.”

“Then you have no honour.”

Jaryd's good eye blazed. “They murdered my little brother! Men I called my friends! Men I grew up with, who professed their loyalty and friendship to my face! And you accuse
me
of dishonour?”

“To meet dishonour with dishonour is to wash down a meal of corruption with a mouthful of ashes.” The Goeren-yai men present had heard that line before. Jaryd, Sasha suspected, had not. “That's a quote from Tullamayne, the greatest Goeren-yai storyteller.”

“I know who Tullamayne is.” Sullenly.

“He was Udalyn,” Sasha continued, forcefully. “We ride to save the Udalyn, before they are wiped out entirely. Imagine thousands of tragedies, Jaryd, each as great as you losing Tarryn. Many thousands. Your men asked for you, men who are vastly more experienced and who could probably manage very well without you. Didn't they?”

She looked askance at Teriyan. Teriyan nodded. “They say that with your father dead,” he said, “you're the Great Lord of Tyree. They won't accept whoever the lords appoint, not after what they did. They won't be a party to that dishonour. That's what they said, even the Verenthanes.”

Jaryd stared at the flagstones. Dirty hair fell about his brow, his battered face shadowed in the flickering lamplight. “If it's revenge you want,” Sasha continued, “think about how many more of them you could kill if you waited until you were healthy. With patience, your revenge could be greater.”

“You think you'll survive this?” Jaryd said bitterly. “Who'll join you? The Goeren-yai have never united for anything. You'll be smashed, and me with you. Better that I kill who I can now, before they realise I've escaped.”

“And alert them to that fact before we're away?” Teriyan retorted. “I'll put you back in your cell first.”

Jaryd stared at the flagstones for a moment. Then he snorted, with no real emotion. “Fine. Have it your way.”

“Sword away,” Teriyan commanded. “Hood up, keep your head down, and not a sound.” Jaryd did so, without concern. Little seemed to bother him, not death, nor slaughter. Sasha feared for him.

They were walking from the dungeons when Sasha realised that somehow, she'd begun arguing for precisely the thing she had been arguing against. Lead an army to the Udalyn Valley? Her? In defiance of her father, to say nothing of Koenyg? But then…her mind began to accelerate, like a lazy horse building to a canter. What forces would Koenyg have if the Falcon Guard and some of the Black Hammers had left? Nearly half of the Hammers were Goeren-yai…and half the Royal Guard, also. Would some of the Royal Guard come? Would many of
their
Verenthane comrades? Was it even imaginable that she, the hot-tempered, troublemaking little girl in Krystoff's shadow, would for a time at least be commanding a greater army than the king or Koenyg would have available? From dreaming in her prison cell to this. It was overwhelming.

“Why in all the hells didn't anyone tell me?” she fumed in sudden temper, as she struggled to grasp this new reality. The dank passage from the guardhouse gave way to stairs, long and winding. She took them slowly, lest Jaryd be left behind. “What am I, just a piece to be moved upon some lowlands board game?”

“You,” Teriyan said firmly, and with the edge of a man about to lose patience, “were our last hope of
not
having to do this. Do you think for a moment that any man here would willingly ride against the king's orders? We hoped you could persuade him. You needed to be convinced it was the only option for that to have any chance of working. We're all sorry if you feel deceived, but damn it, girl, it was the only way! Now, do you want to save the Udalyn or not?”

Sasha stared at him. Familiar features, a face from her childhood, since the age of eight, anyhow. A man she'd grown up with. He did not belong here, in this world. Certainly Andreyis did not. They were from her other world, with Kessligh, out in the Lenay wilds. Or perhaps, it occurred to her, it was she who didn't belong here. Confusion threatened.

Could she turn her back on them now? Tell them it was foolish? That she would not lead a Goeren-yai army in what could certainly become the opening battle of a civil war? If she did nothing, and the Udalyn were destroyed, there would be civil war regardless…only worse. Fighting to save a people from annihilation was an achievable goal, with a near term end in sight. Fighting to avenge an annihilated people was not so much a goal as a state of mind, and could drag on for centuries. She could not allow it. Sometimes, Kessligh had told her more than once, you just have to act. If you wish for your every action to be entirely reasonable and thought out, you shall wish in vain. When action is required, act. Inaction, in such a situation, is always the wrong answer.

“You and I,” she said, with a firm jab at Teriyan's chest as they climbed, “are going to have to improve our communication.”

Even above ground the old castle was dark, dank and full of shadows. Bare stone passed silently underfoot—it was difficult to believe that such a desolate, soulless place had ever been a seat of power in Lenayin.

They passed through an abandoned guardhouse and out into the yard beyond. Carts were lined beneath what had once been a primitive stable, and men were hauling crates of produce from their trays. Above, the old inner walls loomed barely half as high as the grand outer walls, the stonework worn and weathered in places.

The Goeren-yai men walked calmly across the courtyard, soldiers with their hoods down, several hauling full wineskins in prominent view to prevent suspicion—it was well known that officers would send their men on unofficial “requisitional visits” to the castle storage rooms. Men loading carts, hauling crates or tending horses paid this new procession little heed as they headed toward the side exit that had been cut in the old stone for more direct access to the barracks and stables. Sasha walked with her hood up, and no great alarm in that, for the night was cold. Behind, she could hear Jaryd's occasional grunt of pain, but he made reasonable pace despite the limp. Two guards on the small exit waved them through with great nonchalance, and Sasha was not surprised to see both were Goeren-yai.

The street beyond was narrow and appeared empty save for a startled stray cat. Beyond the old inner walls, she could hear the echoing rumble of drums and the shouting of voices. Sasha threw a questioning glance up at Teriyan.

“Soros Square,” he said grimly. “Lord Krayliss dies a glorious death.”

Sasha recalled the execution stand…she'd snuck away, once, to see what her minders had insisted no little girl had any business seeing. For once, they'd been right.

“Nothing glorious in that death,” she said quietly. “In battle, at least you have the mercy of being surprised. Isn't it a little late for an execution?” It was after midnight, she'd gathered.

“It took the carpenters this long to erect the platform,” Teriyan replied, peering into the gloom as he strode, a hand on the hilt of his blade beneath the cloak. “No matter, it creates a diversion for us, in that, his death proves far more useful for the Goeren-yai than his life.”

It sounded a particularly callous thing to say, even for Teriyan. “You set him up for this,” Sasha said bluntly.

Teriyan grunted. “He set himself up. We needed him out of the way, and we needed a diversion…” he shrugged. “He gets his martyrdom, we get a blind space in which to organise, and most of brother Koenyg's loyal guards are busy expecting trouble at the execution. As if we'll all rise up in protest over that fool getting the axe. Koenyg sees everything, but understands nothing. We're heading north.”

Organise? The Goeren-yai? Sasha stared up at his rangy height, her suspicion mounting. Teriyan had been most insistent in accompanying her on this trip. Teriyan, who had many friends and contacts amongst Goeren-yai all over Lenayin. Any Baerlyn man could have accompanied her, but Teriyan had insisted it should be him. “How long have you been plotting?” she asked, her jaw tight.