Sasha (55 page)

To ride at night through any part of Lenayin was no easy thing, for roads were rarely straight and level, and torchlight was of limited service after the setting of the moon. Thankfully there was plenty of oil for the torches and the wind was not too strong to weaken the flame. It swirled, however, cold and occasionally misty, threatening rain.

These and other thoughts crowded Sasha's mind. Before, on such rides, she could relax in the confidence that Kessligh would make the right decisions, now she worried and fretted. The sensation was most unpleasant, made worse by lack of sleep. How did anyone learn to handle such pressures as effortlessly as Kessligh had managed? She could not imagine.

Shortly, the road emerged from the forest onto the outlying Baen-Tar farmland, where the land lay relatively flat between rugged hillsides. The stone walls of farmhouses glowed dimly in the passing of many torches, displaying shutters firmly latched against the dark. It seemed unreal to be riding such a path at night. Torchlight did not reach the surrounding hills, merely caressing the lower fringes of their forested slopes. Above, the ridgelines were almost invisible against the black sky, featureless save for moving patches of stars through the cloud.

A new horse moved up on her right and Sasha recognised Andreyis's face beneath his hood.

“That was a good speech,” he said, his voice barely carrying above the plodding hooves, creaking harness and sputtering wind. He sounded anxious. “You always said you never liked speeches.”

“I can assure you I didn't like that one.” She gazed at the distant, dancing shadow of a farmhouse and wondered if its occupants would cheer or curse them, were they roused from their sleep. Then she looked at her old friend in sudden concern. This was a war party and Andreyis had not yet passed the Wakening. “We'll have to find you some mail.”

“You're not wearing any,” Andreyis retorted.

“Slows me down. If I lose my speed and balance, I've no advantage left. Safer not to wear any.” It troubled her, Andreyis being there. He was from her peaceful life on the hillside with her horses. Of course he'd always trained for warfare, as all Lenay men did, but she'd never thought to be present when he first put those skills to the test. And she'd
certainly
never thought to be in command. It scared her worse than anything had scared her so far in this night's young rebellion.

“Sasha, I'm…I just…wanted to say that I'm sorry.” Andreyis looked even more anxious now. As if concerned, in a way that he rarely had been before, of arousing her temper. “Teriyan said you were angry at him. I knew that he was telling other Goeren-yai about you, but he told me not to say anything, and so did my father…”

“What did he say?” Sasha asked. “Teriyan, I mean?”

“He…” Andreyis took a deep breath, and glanced aside. “Folks were curious, Sasha. I mean, I've forgotten the number of times some out-of-towner stopped by the house on some business and wanted to ask me only about you. I always told them I only worked at the ranch, that I didn't know you real well…you know, just to shut them up. But they all gossiped, and that gossip went all across Lenayin.”

“I know,” Sasha said quietly. “I know they gossiped. I know they wanted a royal Goeren-yai. There was lots of talk that Krystoff was the first. Some said that the spirits had taken him, and turned his heart to the ancient ways. When he died, and I left to live with Kessligh, many felt that spirit had passed on to me. The Taneryn say it's the will of the Synnich. Everyone has their own little legend or prophecy. Doubtless if I die, they'll invent some new one.”

“Sasha, don't blame Teriyan. He wasn't spying on you, he never told any personal details or anything…”

“Little enough he knows of my personal life,” Sasha snorted.

“Aye, well…” Andreyis fidgeted with a handful of rein. “But someone had to talk to them. Goeren-yai from all over Lenayin were fascinated, Sasha. They'd all have turned up on your doorstep if Teriyan and Jaegar hadn't done some talking. It's not easy for them sometimes, you know, having you and Kessligh in town. I mean…I get told all the time, how Baerlyn ceased to be a normal town when you two arrived. Most are pleased, don't get me wrong…but it's just different, that's all.”

“You didn't talk to any gossip mongers?” Sasha asked him with a firm gaze.

Andreyis blinked. “And tell them what? That you shave your legs with a hunting knife and candle wax?” Sasha bit back a grin and tried hard to look annoyed. Unsuccessfully, because Andreyis saw and smiled, exasperatedly. “I don't know what these idiots want, Sasha. Teriyan does. They want to know signs, you know…that you can quote some Tullamayne, that you make the spirit sign, that you wear the tri-braid and prefer wine to ale. Some holy folks think they can read the spirits’ will in little things…I don't know, what colour socks you wear. Stupid stuff. Teriyan doesn't like it either, but they tell folks this stuff so Baerlyn doesn't become some damn pilgrimage town for crazy Goeren-yai hoping to catch a glimpse. It keeps them satisfied so they don't have to come and find out for themselves. Which wouldn't have made Prince Koenyg real happy, I'd guess.”

Sasha breathed a deep, dark breath. “It's honeycomb wax,” she said on an impulse. “Candle wax hurts too much.”

Andreyis gave a snort of laughter. “Some people think you're a tomboy, but I know better. You're still just a pampered princess underneath, with all your girlie things in your washing stall…”

“I happen to dislike body hair in the wrong places!” Sasha retorted. “What's wrong with that?”

“I counted
nine
different soaps and oils,” Andreyis countered accusingly.

“I take my luxuries where I can get them.”

“Exactly.”

“Did Teriyan tell them that too?” Sasha asked, with a lingering sideways look.

“How could he have? I didn't tell him. Besides, he was trying to
protect
you from that kind of prying, Sasha. People were going to pry anyway, you being who you are. Teriyan and Jaegar just tried to manage it, that's all.”

Sasha sighed, heavily. Ahead, the vanguard's torches lit a wavering, ghostly line across the paddocks—a treeline, where the forest closed in once more. “Alythia accused me of trying desperately to fit in where none would willingly accept me,” she said sombrely. And laughed bitterly. “Isn't that just like a sister, to know just where to stick the needle so it hurts the most? I just wanted to fit in, Andrey. I wanted friends and a place to belong. I didn't want to be a burden, or a…a pilgrimage attraction. Just a person, you know?”

Andreyis smiled at her, with friendly exasperation. “Sasha…you don't understand, do you? Look behind you.” She looked over her shoulder. A vast column of horses, torchlit across the dark, rolling fields. Cloaked and armoured men in their hundreds. “You did fit in. The Goeren-yai are following you, Sasha. Teriyan spread word about you and men liked what they heard. They always have, even in Baerlyn folks think you can walk on clouds…”

“Don't be ridiculous!” Sasha said incredulously. Thinking of all the ribbings she'd received at the hands of Baerlyn men and women alike, the good-humoured slander, the teasing about her hair and how she showered far more affection on horses than young men, and how all those same young men were too frightened to flirt with her…

“I'm not being ridiculous!” Andreyis protested. “We don't do hero worship real well, Sasha…Goeren-yai men are proud, they don't bow at the feet of others easily. I'm your friend, Sasha. I've wrestled you down the hillside and rubbed dirt in your hair. But I'm not riding here tonight just because you're my friend. I'm riding here because I'm Goeren-yai and the Goeren-yai need a leader. They've chosen that leader to be you. And I couldn't think of anyone I'd rather follow.”

Sasha gazed at him, a cold gust of wind threatening to remove the hood from her head. Tears prickled her eyes, and she reached and grasped Andreyis's hand with her own. “I don't know if I deserve that trust, Andrey,” she said quietly. “I'm a spoilt, self-centred brat.”

Andreyis grinned. “Aye, you are.” Sasha laughed. Silly of her to have expected any other reply. “But you care for people. And you don't think yourself better than others, despite your talents. Lord Krayliss did neither. Which is why they follow you, and not him.”

A
T DAWN THEY CAME TO THE
V
ARYSH
R
IVER
, which marked the boundary between Baen-Tar and Valhanan. Water levels were low, typical of late summer, and Sasha rode to the far bank with barely a splash to wet her boots. Soldiers dismounted along both banks to lead their horses over the rocks and gravel of the exposed riverbed to drink.

Sasha was relieved to find that men had rations, for she had none. Her vanguard shared some bread and fruit with her as she stood and flexed her legs, watching Peg graze amidst the thick bushes that overgrew the riverbank. Birds chorused against the pale overcast sky, as hooves clattered on rock and men conversed in various tongues, weapons and armour clinking as they sat and ate, or briefly washed.

Finishing her breakfast, Sasha walked to a better vantage on the water's edge. So many men and horses. They lined the river as far as she could see to the upstream and downstream bends. Line company men, Lenayin's best equipped and most fearsome warriors. Not necessarily the best trained, nor even the highest standard, given the lifelong training that even simple farmers received. But these were the men she needed, more than common villagers. These men had
horses.

Still, she reflected, she would have to get someone to count heads, just for certainty, and see if the number came anywhere near the two thousand of her earlier estimation. Lieutenant Alyn and the vanguard had followed her to the water's edge, she saw. They made a rough, informal line, separating her from the surrounding men and horses. It made her uncomfortable, as did many of the looks that came her way from the surrounding, mostly Goeren-yai soldiers. Some gazed in amazement, others in simple curiosity. Yet others were unreadable. Men of Lenayin were not easily impressed, she knew. And Kessligh had told her often that respect, in Lenayin, was no one's birthright. She took some comfort in Andreyis's words the previous night and yet she remained unconvinced. Many of these men needed no convincing of the rightness of their cause, but it would take plenty more than a pretty speech to convince many of them of
her
, no matter who her uman.

Some men performed taka-dans—as all soldiers would try to do them at least once a day, under any circumstances. Sasha settled for her stretching regimen—taka-dans could wait for a little more privacy. A soldier in Falcon Guard uniform approached, hair braided and ears ringed. He gained permission from Lieutenant Alyn, then squatted before Sasha, who sat upon a flattish rock with legs splayed, grasping one boot with both hands.

“Another thirty-five have joined from neighbouring villages, M'Lady,” he told her. “Others are spreading the word, there is talk of hundreds more arriving shortly. It would be many more, but for the shortage of horses. Some are saying they will walk to the valley.”

“And arrive ten days late,” Sasha replied. “If they can find us, so can our enemies. It calls for watchful scouts, we don't want to mistake one for the other.”

“Aye, M'Lady, we have men who know the region well. They are watchful.”

He left, replaced by Tyrun and Lieutenant Alyn as she finished her stretching. “Advice,” she asked the sharp-featured captain as they stood by the flowing water. “How do we stop this formation from turning into a rabble? Already we're becoming strung out across entire folds. If we simply keep adding new arrivals to the rear, they'll become easy pickings for ambush or charge from behind. These new arrivals are just villagers, they may be formidable warriors alone, but their equipment is not so good and their understanding of mass tactics even less.”

“And we haven't trained together,” Lieutenant Alyn added, looking about the riverbanks in concern, biting at his lip. “I served in the Yethulyn Bears before I joined the Royal Guard—it took me months to learn the different ways the Royal Guard fight. Understanding of tactics changes from region to region and unit to unit—some men will charge an ambush, others will dismount to fight on foot, others may try to outflank. We're only going to add new militia soldiers as we continue, how can we know how these new additions will behave? To say nothing of this great fruit salad of units we've accumulated.”

Tyrun finished chewing a bite of fruit and spat out the pips. “At least you youngsters ask the right questions. Now you need to learn that not every question has an answer. To both of you, I say simply that we do the best we can. M'Lady, I regret to inform you that we
are
a rabble. No helping it. If we get hit in midcolumn on the march, we'll get split. I've instructed ranks along the line to circle and enfold, if any such hit us…but you know the difficulty of anything so rapid in this terrain.

“On the bright side, this is the easy bit. Making this rabble work against thousands of Hadryn and probably Banneryd heavy cavalry, especially if they get wind of us and have time to prepare…that'll be the test.”