“No councils!” yelled another. “They're a fucking mess!”
“Like a mob of old women on the verandah with their knitting!” came another. Laughter roared.
“In command of all Lenayin, yes!” Sasha agreed. “But to advise the king?” Silence from the crowd. “An idea. A council. Not in charge. Not with the power to make war. Not with any power, in fact, except the power to oppose an action of the king it does not like, and the power to suggest alternatives, which the king may take or discard as he sees fit.
“A council run according to the rules of debate long established by the Nasi-Keth. A council always governed by a Nasi-Keth, or perhaps even a serrin, should we find one crazy enough.” Laughter from some, and thoughtful frowns from others. “What happens today when the king makes a law we do not like? Or when some new law emerges that lords wish to write? We have a rathynal. And what do we all think of rathynals?”
Sounds of general disapproval.
“So make a council like a permanent rathynal, with representatives in place for all provinces and regions, and put the Nasi-Keth in charge of it. That is what I propose.”
“This is horseshit! We are here to win a war, not to debate. Lead us in battle!”
“And I've just told you why I can't, and won't,” Sasha said patiently. “Appoint an independent commander of your armies if you will-my father did it with Kessligh many years ago. But you all know that you have no need. Damon is as accomplished a commander as you will find, and my command is needed with the Ilduuri Steel. Nasi-Keth will never rule Lenayin. But we will advise. That is our place, and our task in the world. If you truly respect my victory over Markan, you will respect that, for it was granted by the Nasi-Keth.
“And I advise,” she continued, before discontent could erupt into turmoil once more, “that you are all missing the point. The old ways demand a contest of leadership. As the Nasi-Keth advisor to Lenayin, a role that Kessligh played so ably before me, I advise that there is a challenge of the old ways that is in order. A challenge for the true kingship of Lenayin, not this petty squabble over the order of lineage.
“King Koenyg approaches. His rule is unworthy and dishonourable. Prince Damon is both honourable and worthy. He shall challenge. He shall duel the unworthy King of Lenayin, and beneath the gaze of our ancestors shall defeat him in honourable single combat. I am Synnich-ahn, I have been granted by my victory in tymorain the right to make law, and I say that there shall be a duel, between brothers Damon and Koenyg, for the right to rule Lenayin as king!”
There were loud yells of approval, yet not so loud as before. Many still grumbled, insistent that by the old ways, she should lead, as she was strongest. But there were enough who cheered now, liking her notion and the red meat she had thrown to their ancient tradition, salve for the insult she had paid in rejecting it herself. She had divided them, and now they would argue and complain, but the momentum to install her upon a throne irrespective of her wishes was blunted.
Only now she could see Damon, standing by Kessligh's side amidst the noise and argument, staring at her, pale-faced, as though she'd signed his death warrant herself.
“I didn't have a choice.” Sasha sat on the verandah of a farmhouse in the Ilduuri camp, sipping tea by lamplight. Kessligh sat alongside. “I just proved myself strongest, and shoved their tradition back in their face. They needed some affirmation of the old ways, and that was it.”
“Koenyg probably can't accept the challenge anyway,” said Kessligh. “It's a Goeren-yai tradition, he's Verenthane, and not bound to accept. And arranging it would mean delays-Balthaar's warplan may not allow it.”
“But he won't like refusing the challenge,” Sasha said sombrely. “It has implications of cowardice for any Lenay. It may cost him support, it may make divisions between him and Balthaar if he presses Balthaar to allow it, and it may make him angry. Koenyg can do silly things when he's angry.”
“Wouldn't count on it,” said Kessligh, sipping his own tea. Activity continued about them in the light of lamps and campfires. The Ilduuri Steel were particularly pleased to see her here amongst them this night, and Sasha regretted now having taken even one night in the city. It had seemed necessary, to mingle with the powerful and learn the lay of things, yet her true place was here, amongst the men who would fight and die at her command. She had memorised all senior ranks down to formation sergeants, over two hundred men. But there were many more she wanted to learn-not merely their names, but more importantly their experience, reputation and character.
“Damon's furious at me,” she said. “Sofy too. Damon has rarely bested Koenyg at swords. Few men can. If Koenyg does accept the challenge, and Balthaar lets him…”
“Then one more of us will die in war,” said Kessligh. “There will be plenty, the method matters not.”
“If Damon dies, Markan commands Lenayin,” Sasha said quietly. “But Markan cannot be king. An Isfayen king would be less popular than a Cherrovan one.”
“In which case, it had better be you after all,” Kessligh concluded.
Sasha nodded, absently. “If Koenyg kills Damon in single combat because of a duel I set up, I suppose I'll deserve that punishment and worse.”
“Nothing you can do about it now,” said Kessligh. “The risk is great, but the reward is worth it. That was a nice idea, though. A Nasi-Keth role for Lenayin. Of course, it has its own concerns,” he added. “If the Nasi-Keth have a powerful role as independent advisors to the crown, who advises the advisors? And who watches that they do not grow too powerful? We've seen the Nasi-Keth in too many lands straying from the wisdom of their own teachings, Ilduur most recently.”
Sasha shrugged. “Something to think about if we live. We have more pressing matters now.”
“And I've been working on those matters all day and my mind needs a rest.” Kessligh shifted in his seat, seeking a more comfortable position for his stiff leg. “In the Great War, I would spend evenings talking poetry and ballads with my commanders. A mind can think on war too long, and forget what it fights for.”
Sasha smiled faintly. “You were my age then.”
Kessligh nodded. “Roughly. And alarmed at how fast I rose from nothing to command, mostly because some of my very brave and stupid superiors were more interested in displaying their honour by charging the Cherrovan head-on rather than by manoeuvring. My horsemanship was poor, but none of them could best me with a stanch. That gained me great respect, and when gaps appeared in higher ranks, I was chosen to fill them. Repeatedly.”
“Victory of the strongest,” Sasha murmured. “Brohyl.”
“Lenayin's greatest tradition,” said Kessligh. “And its most troublesome.” A runner emerged from the dark, leaped onto the verandah, and murmured something in Kessligh's ear. Kessligh nodded, murmured something back, and the man saluted and left. “Your own rise here echoes mine in Lenayin, somewhat. A few then were even cheering for me to be king.”
“I know. I've spoken with some who remember. But the north, and the lords…”
Kessligh nodded. “And just as well, for as you've said, if every strong swordsman feels entitled to challenge for the throne, Lenayin should drown in blood. Feudalist instincts for stability are not all bad.”
“Stability can be achieved by other means, I'm sure,” Sasha said sourly. “Did you consider it?”
“Kingship?” A private smile passed between them. “I'd have gone crazy. We have that in common. I was Nasi-Keth. I explained the concept much as you did today. I would be independent. I could not build a strong Nasi-Keth foundation in Lenayin as the lords would not allow it, but the leadership in Torovan and elsewhere required me to stay where I was for the influence I exerted on your father, and I was happy enough, so I did.”