Haven: A Trial of Blood and Steel Book Four (43 page)

“Mostly constructed by the people who live in them, yes.” Errollyn leaned on the railing beside her. “Most serrin know woodwork. Many know stone. Most grow their own food, at least in part. Many make their own bread, and tools, and sometimes even clothes. We do not specialise. Insects specialise. We are not insects.”

Sasha barely noticed the implied insult. “But there are larger cities, yes? Uam? Shea?”

“Yes, but they're quite small compared to Tracato, and certainly compared to Petrodor. All are on the coast, and only grew large on human trade. That trade is how we have such a strong navy. But Jahnd is the largest city in all Saalshen, and it is not even serrin.”

“Oh dear lords,” Sasha murmured, feeling slightly dizzy. She did not know whether to laugh or cry. She spun on Errollyn. “You've been lying to me!” she accused him. “You've never explained Saalshen like this! You implied the cities and towns were larger!”

“You never asked too deeply,” Errollyn replied, with no more than a faint frown. “But yes, I was vague. Sasha, we don't talk about it much, with humans. Even a
du'jannah
like me can see why it is not a good idea. Can you?”

Sasha turned back to the view across the little stream, through thickets of small trees to several more pretty timber houses. “You don't forget,” she murmured. “Your memories are so much better than ours. You learn a skill and remember it. So you don't specialise.”

“No,” Errollyn agreed patiently.

“So you are more self-sufficient. You do not need to employ a builder to build a house, you build it yourselves, because you learn how and remember, quickly. You do not need specialist tradesmen. Serrin know all trades themselves.”

“Well, not
all
trades,” Errollyn admitted. “But many more than humans do.”

“So you don't need big settlements,” Sasha concluded. “You like small towns. Villages.” Suddenly it dawned on her, looking about, that for all the wildness of this place, the wildness seemed a little…predictable. “Oh wow, all this village is landscaped, isn't it? It only looks natural, it's actually all been sculpted. These trees, lakes, fields?”

“This stream,” Errollyn agreed, indicating the water that flowed beneath their feet. “The streams are all artificial, flowing from the river, and back into it. We manage watercourses like humans have not learned how. This village could have been here for a thousand years or longer. Serrin have little urge to grow things bigger as humans do. We have all we need here, so we are not compelled.”

“And so you have no industry,” Sasha sighed as it truly dawned on her. A lump grew in her throat. “No great steelworks to outfit an army. No great stone quarries or lumber yards to do works of engineering, to build defensive walls.”

Errollyn nodded. “And we have so little free labour. These people are happy and want for little, but they're busy. Serrin work hard—that is the way when we do everything ourselves and are self-sufficient. Armies require a surplus of men to go off and fight, and a surplus of food and provisions….”

Sasha rolled her eyes and gazed skywards in exasperation. “You fools,” she said sadly. And smiled at him. “You've been bluffing us for centuries, haven't you? That's why humans were never welcome to visit here.”

“That and the small matter of humans thinking this the land of devils,” Errollyn said sarcastically.

“But you can't actually maintain an army at all, can you? Just the
talmaad
, who are so talented as individuals that they make an intimidating impression, but even they cannot stand and fight in force.”

“We would have to change our entire civilisation,” Errollyn sighed and gazed across the stream. Further along were some fishing nets, woven onto a wooden frame with an elaborate mount that would dip the nets in the water. “We would have to specialise, and live in cities, and make a surplus of labour for fighting and building, and maintain them with a central leadership that gathered taxes. We don't even have leaders, Sasha. No central organisation at all, or nearly none. This is what we were debating, up until King Leyvaan's time. And after his fall, and our capture of Rhodaan, Enora and Ilduur, we had human lands to do all this for us.

“Our human allies gave us our army, gave us the Steel, and the engineers and builders, and the wealth to maintain it all by taxes, and serrin decided we did not need to change the way we lived at all. And so we went back to our old ways and stopped worrying about it so much. In truth, we were better prepared to defend ourselves two hundred years ago than today. Now we are helpless like children, and hoping only that our human friends will save us. For if they do not, we have no way of saving ourselves.”

The building was a gathering space in Tormae, like a council room, though Sasha had not encountered the word before in Saalsi. It had no walls, polished wood floors, and exposed beams across a high ceiling. The centre of its floor stepped down to a hole, within which was a small garden of smooth rocks, little plants, and a pool of water. More water trickled beneath the floorboards, and all about the exposed sides were more plants. Sasha had only ever seen a building like this before in the Mahl'rhen, the serrin house in Tracato. That had been grand. This was intimate, green, and even more lovely.

She and Errollyn left their boots at the floor's edge, and interrupted the debate within. Before the central garden, Rhillian sat alone, one bare foot teasing the surface of the pool. Or nearly alone. Aisha sat one step above her, cross-legged and concerned. About the room, some seated, some standing and leaning, were
talmaad.
Amongst them were a few plain-clothed serrin, these in a light robe, tied at the waist. All appeared concerned.

Errollyn went straight to Rhillian, and she rose. Errollyn embraced her. Sasha saw her face over Errollyn's shoulder, her expression a little surprised and quite relieved.

“I'm sad about Arendelle,” Errollyn told her as they parted. “But not Kiel. I would have done it earlier, had not consequences forbidden it.”

“This is not a matter to be spoken of so lightly,” another serrin said gravely.

“No one asked your opinion, Hsheldrin,” Errollyn cut him off, eyes not leaving Rhillian. The
talmaad
named Hsheldrin looked quite displeased. “Kiel's plan was evil, as was much of Kiel's path of late. If we do not oppose evil, we oppose nothing. If Arendelle was ensnared by Kiel's
ra'shi
at the time, then his death is also an unavoidable and necessary sadness. You did right and well.”

Sasha went to sit by Aisha, who offered her a bowl of biscuits.

“What happens here?” Errollyn asked the gathering, challengingly. “You all look like someone died.”

Discomfort swept the room. Even Rhillian gave him a faintly warning look, resuming her seat by Aisha. Errollyn paced, slowly.

“We discuss
vy'tal air
,” replied a serrin.

“Banishment,” Aisha whispered to Sasha, in Lenay.

Sasha frowned. “From what?”

“Saalshen. The serrinim. Everything.”

Sasha stared across at Rhillian. Rhillian met her eyes, and smiled faintly.

Errollyn was laughing.
“Vy'tal air,”
he said. “Seriously? You're not joking?”

More frowns. Errollyn spoke Saalsi with deliberate bluntness, like some vandal using a porcelain statuette to break down a door. Hearing it was enough to make more sophisticated serrin wince.

“If
vy'tal air
is not invoked by this act,” said another serrin, “then for what should it be invoked?”

“I don't know,” Errollyn replied. “How about for something
wrong?”

“No serrin has intentionally and in good mind murdered another serrin in millennia!” came the angry reply. “She murdered two!”

“Firstly,” said Errollyn, “Rhillian did not murder anyone. Kiel murdered a human family, and was about to murder many more. Rhillian stopped him. In the course of this stopping, Kiel lost his life, as did Arendelle. A fair trade in any moral tongue, I think.

“Secondly, we are about to fight a battle for Saalshen's very existence. The
talmaad
have two truly proven commanders in this fight. I am one, Rhillian is the other. She commanded with excellence in Elisse; few if any could have done as well. This discussion can wait until after the battle, if there is an after. If there is not an after, it will be because we are all dead, thus rendering all of this most excellent hot air of yours wasted.”

“This is the most serious crime against the serrinim in a millennium!” another serrin said angrily. “And you treat it as a joke!”

“I treat
you
as a joke,” Errollyn corrected. “All of you. Killing a murderous serrin is evil, yet murdering human families is nothing? Is evil only evil if it is committed against a serrin? Morality cannot be equivocated. Morality is consistency. Wrong is wrong no matter who the victim.

“The only crime here was committed by Kiel. Serrin do not kill each other because we rarely do enough evil to warrant it. If you wish to be upset by someone breaking a long-standing tradition of the serrinim, be upset by
that.
Rhillian, let's leave. If this mob does not understand even that much, they are not worth our company.”

“You can appoint her as commander of
talmaad
if you wish,” a serrin said darkly. “Whether any serrin shall choose to follow her is another matter.”

A small group of buildings clustered along the stream. One was a mill, its waterwheel squeaking in the rush of downhill water. Sasha wondered if the slope of the ground had been shaped by serrin many hundreds of years ago, or if they had chosen this slope to make the water run faster.

“Now you know how it feels,” Errollyn said to Rhillian as the four of them walked along the bank.

Rhillian sighed, thumbs tucked in her belt. She was greatly upset, but showed it little. Sasha put a hand on her shoulder. “We are all four of us exiles, in our way. My father cast me from Lenayin, Aisha cannot return to Enora, Errollyn is
du'jannah
, and now you.”

“I will not leave,” said Rhillian, gazing at the mill. “The threats of a people who cannot punish their own mean nothing.”

“I need you on the right flank with Sasha's Ilduuris,” said Errollyn. “If they will not follow you, they'll have me to answer to. I don't trust anyone else to do the job.”

“Arjen could,” said Rhillian. “Mirelle.”

Errollyn shook his head. “Rhillian, we have been having this argument since Petrodor. Serrin do not think flexibly. We follow. The
vel'ennar
is our peace and harmony, but it is also our shackles. I have no
vel'ennar
, so I see things that others miss. And now there is you, a normal serrin, who has become somehow stranger even than I. Before you took Kiel's life, I would not have trusted you with command as I do now.”

Rhillian gave him a wary stare. “I am a killer of my own kind.”

“Like me,” said Sasha. Rhillian rolled her eyes.

They stopped on a small bridge that crossed the stream to the mills. The building adjoining the mill had a chimney, and Sasha could smell the most wonderful bread baking. Serrin unloaded sacks of grain from a cart. One recognised Errollyn, and shouted greeting. Errollyn waved back.

“What chance do you give us?” Rhillian asked Sasha as they leaned on the rail.

“If we can take some of their artillery early, a reasonable chance,” said Sasha. “If not, very little.”

Rhillian nodded reluctantly. “Immobility is death against Steel artillery. A fate much like Saalshen's. We are immobile. Human civilisations change, yet we remain stuck in one place.”

“They weren't supposed to capture our artillery,” said Aisha. “But no one really knew what would happen in a defeat. The Steel had won only victories in two centuries. Defeat was never planned for properly.”

“And now we equip our worst enemies with our deadliest weapons,” Rhillian finished. “But it was always going to happen. Things do not stand still upon the western side of the Ipshaal. Saalshen's enemies were always going to learn to use that weaponry one day.”

“You should have invaded them all when you had the chance,” said Sasha.

Rhillian shrugged. “The oldest argument, the oldest regret. Serrin are who we are—we thought that by not invading, we were being kind. And now our kindness will kill us.”

“War is not the worst thing.” Sasha thought of Markan, and Damon. Thought of pending battles, against enemies and friends. “Sometimes it is the lack of war that creates a worse disaster.”

Rhillian looked at her. “What are you going to do about Markan?”

Sasha was not surprised that Rhillian could guess her thoughts; Rhillian knew her well. “I should do what is best for Lenayin,” she replied, without conviction.

“Perhaps a woman to rule Lenayin would be good,” Aisha suggested. “Perhaps it would improve things.”

“Not even for the blink of an eye,” Sasha said sombrely. “Do you believe in that old nonsense of women acting more kindly and gently? This is me we're talking about, Aisha.”

“That is true,” Aisha conceded with a smile.

“The north would rebel,” Sasha added.

“The north rebel anyhow,” said Rhillian. “What difference?”

“Many more would join them. I am a Goeren-yai figure, so the Verenthanes would be threatened. And worse, the methods that Markan seeks to use to elevate me mean that every mad fool in Lenayin who feels slighted that the gods or spirits did not grant him an earlier birth will challenge his brother to battle. I agree that Lenayin needs a means of passing power from one man to another without the endless shedding of blood. I refuse to add to the bloodshed in generations to come.”

A boy of perhaps twelve came running to the bridge from the bakery. Errollyn greeted him, and the boy showed him the bow he was carrying. It looked newly made, and the right height for a boy that age.

“Well, they seem quite adamant, Sasha,” said Aisha. “I do not claim to know Lenayin as well as you, but I know it quite well for a foreigner. There does seem to be a desire for you to lead them, and I do not think they will simply allow you to refuse.”