“And you had many female companions,” Sasha said mischievously. “I heard.”
Kessligh smiled, with the wry acceptance of a father whose daughter teased him. “Court ladies are awful. Entertaining enough for a young man with nothing better on his mind, as Jaryd could tell. But no company at all.”
“It must please you then to be in Saalshen. Beautiful serrin women everywhere, and all quite receptive to your odd fancies.”
Kessligh nodded, and looked faintly melancholy. Sasha's smile faded. “In truth,” he said, “I've been thinking that if we win, I will stay here. I've always wished to spend time in Saalshen.”
Sasha sighed. She was not surprised at all.
“And,” he added, “you will be able to achieve so much more for the Nasi-Keth in Lenayin than I ever could. You could make it an institution of true power in Lenayin.”
Sasha thought of their ranch in Baerlyn, where Lynette awaited them, and many horses. That time when they had fought, and reconciled, and then Kessligh had left for Petrodor…that had been the last time he had seen his home. It seemed another age. And it would quite possibly be the last time he would ever see it, whatever the conclusion of the battle to come. It was nothing to be sad about, she told herself. She would be pleased enough if he lived. Where he spent the rest of that life was a trivial concern.
“Speaking of Nasi-Keth concerns,” she said, “Yasmyn has asked me to be her uman. Repeatedly.”
“The Isfayen respect the Nasi-Keth, tonight more than ever.”
“The Isfayen respect the svaalverd,” Sasha replied. “That's different.”
Kessligh shrugged. “Not really. It's like you and Errollyn-you came for the body, but you stayed for the man.” Sasha gaped at him. Then grinned, and mimed throwing her tea on him. “It doesn't matter how you attract the Isfayen to the cause-if they like one aspect of the Nasi-Keth, you can then sell them on others later. And to have the sister of the Great Lord of Isfayen as your uma would be a good start.”
“She's quite good, too,” Sasha admitted. “But I'm not sure about the old arrangement of uma and uman. We need to make a school, a Tol'rhen in Lenayin. And train thousands, in all sorts of things, not just svaalverd.”
Kessligh's eyes twinkled. “Ambitious,” he said, with great approval.
“Oh, I have plans.” Sasha stretched, groaning. “Great plans.” She relaxed, and considered the army about her in the dark. “Pity we're all about to die.”
Kessligh nodded, and sipped tea. “Isn't it,” he agreed.
TWENTY-TWO
Sofy found the feast more surreal than anything she'd seen since coming to Saalshen. There were tables of amazing food, and after eating, music, acrobats, and performers Sofy knew of no word to describe. Always at her elbow there was some Jahndi nobility (or however such people were described, as there was no noble title here) telling her the exquisite meaning of this dish, or that performance. Jahndis seemed to take great pride in being unique to all humanity and Saalshen too. An island of uniqueness in a serrin sea, and oh-so-sophisticated for it.
Sofy was astonished at her own cynicism. Jahnd was an amazing city, and at any other time she would have been delighted at all that she saw. But there was about to be a great war for the survival not only of Jahnd, but of Saalshen too, and so many people here seemed to barely notice. And shouldn't all this food be stored for the coming siege?
Perhaps it was the dark looks that she received from many Jahndis, born of the fact that she was still Princess Regent, and whatever the moral victory of her defection to this side of the Lenay divide, ongoing bonds of marriage meant as much to most Jahndis as elsewhere in human lands. She was the wife of the man who attacked them, and that was that.
And there were very few serrin. Jahnd only existed as a city on the tolerance of serrin, who had extended far more kindness to humanity here than humanity's treatment of serrin might have warranted. Yet this great feast in opulent halls atop the Jahndi slope was an almost entirely human affair, with the only serrin Sofy could see being those there on official invitation.
It was Jaryd who rescued her from her little corner of Jahndis who would talk to her, and hovering servants.
“Your sister wishes to speak with you immediately,” he lied, with grave earnestness. Mention of Sasha brought wide-eyed looks and murmurs from those surrounding, who bowed graciously as Sofy apologised and excused herself.
“Oh, thank goodness,” she gasped as they emerged into the courtyard, and the warm summer night. “I've been so free the past weeks, I don't know how I can ever tolerate court again.”
Travelling through Saalshen with Jaryd, and a few curious serrin guides who changed every few days, had been one of the more wonderful times in Sofy's life. Serrin did and dressed as they pleased, and seemed bound by little of convention as humans understood it. Now, to be back, even in some place as liberated as Jahnd, seemed stifling.
“I've found a place far more entertaining,” said Jaryd with enthusiasm. “Come with me.”
“But I can't go anywhere in this stupid gown!”
“You're beginning to sound like Sasha. Come on, stop at the quarters and get changed first.”
Sasha's quarters were Sofy's, now that Sasha had decided to stay with her army down in the valley. Sofy changed into the plain clothes she'd been travelling in, and followed Jaryd's lead.
“Where are we going?”
“Downslope,” said Jaryd, limping a little on his bad leg. “The thing I've discovered since becoming Goeren-yai is that you have to get away from the money and nobility to find the really good stuff.”
“Here,” said Sofy, and put his arm about her shoulders for support.
“I'm not going to lean on you, don't be stupid.”
“Then put your damn arm about me like some wench you met at a tavern,” Sofy retorted with amusement. “At least you'll make it less likely I'll be recognised.”
But there was little chance of that in common clothes, as so few Jahndis knew her face. Jaryd took her all the way down the hill, and slowly the stately silence of grand buildings gave way to the livelier clusters of smaller ones. At one shoulder in the road, they gained a wide view of the Ilmerhill Valley below, a sprawl of lantern lights and small fires. Down narrower lanes they passed night markets doing a busy trade, many of their customers soldiers. There were inns with great balconies overlooking the lower defensive wall, and crowded with revellers. Conversation roared and music played, and Sofy stared about in delight at all there was to see, hear, and smell.
They bought delicious pastries at a roadside stall, laughed at a street performer's tricks, and stared at amazing glass baubles on sale at a stall. There were serrin here, some talmaad, others not, seeming to enjoy this human confusion as much as anyone. To them, Jahnd was an amazing place they would occasionally take their children to visit, as Lenay villagers had often taken their families to see the wonders of the nearest city. This was an odd place where the humans lived and made all kinds of colourful things.
Jaryd exchanged cheerful salutes with passing Lenay soldiers, and more formal yet equally friendly ones with Enorans, Rhodaanis, and Ilduuris. Everywhere were little groups of soldiers, stopped to chat or direct each other to the nearest interesting thing. Some singers on a corner made a wonderful chorus, with harmonies utterly foreign to Sofy's ear. Some teenage boys showed off a serrin barehanded fighting technique, with flying fists, leaps, and spinning kicks.
“This is the Low Quarter,” Jaryd explained in her ear, “where the entertainments for the common folk are held. They're kept open so even the labourers working through the night can take a break now and then, and come here to relax for a while. I spoke to some hellfire brewers earlier. I reckon they could use a break.”