“So what would it take?” Sasha asked. “To convince the Steel to ignore the Remischtuul's orders? To defy them?”
Arken smiled darkly. “Finding this Meraini party would be a good start,” he said, seeing the direction that she led them to. “Then presenting their treacherous heads to those of our comrades yet to be convinced. Would you help us?”
Sasha smiled back. “It would be my pleasure,” she said. “How will we find these Meraini puppet masters?”
Jaryd tested the strapping on his calf and found it tight. Yet it lessened the pain, which the healer had assured him was nothing worse than torn muscle, and would heal so long as he treated it well.
He made his way carefully up the stairs from the lakeside, away from the serrin village upon its shores. Forest grew thick, and small cabins nestled amidst the trunks. Serrin wandered about various tasks, or sat on verandahs and talked, as seemed their way. Birds flitted overhead, and their calls echoed high and far across the canopy of leaves.
These cabins were odd in that they did not seem well suited for any trade or business. In Lenayin, woodsmen would build amongst the trees like this, but out in the wilds and not so close to a village. And even then, they would have adjoining space for leather tanning, or butchery, or woodcrafts, or however such folk made themselves a living. These cabins seemed to have little purpose save leisure, and sitting on verandahs in the tree shade, and listening to birdsong.
A small stream trickled nearby through the undergrowth as Jaryd limped up the stairs. Suddenly someone arrived at his side, placing his arm about their shoulders to help with the steps. To Jaryd's astonishment, it was a serrin woman, a total stranger, who smiled at him, and took some weight off his bad leg.
“Thank you,” he told her. “What is your name?”
The serrin said something in Saalsi, uncomprehending. These were not talmaad, and the woman was unarmed that he could see. If she did not speak Torovan, certainly she would not speak Lenay. For all their linguistic talent, most serrin did not speak human tongues, and devoted their language skills to their own multiple dialects.
The serrin woman arrived at her path to a cabin, and said what was obviously an apology for leaving him. She walked to a cabin half-hidden amongst trees. She was wearing pants and a shirt, not so unlike what the men wore. Somehow Jaryd found that most astonishing of anything he'd seen in Saalshen so far. He'd assumed that talmaad women were merely abandoning their traditional, feminine garb for something more practical. Now he was finding that serrin women wore pants in Saalshen too.
At the top of the path he found the trail he had been directed to, and followed it through the trees. Suddenly it opened onto a small lake on the hillside. On either side of the lake were grand wooden buildings with pointed roofs. They reminded Jaryd of some Lenayin training halls, where men would practise swordwork. These looked more peaceful, and those serrin he could see wore robes. Priests? he wondered, as he limped on around the lake. Within the templelike buildings, the walls were lined with carved symbols he had never seen before, and decorations like wind chimes dangled and swung about the doorways.
Jaryd followed a path between wooden temples and thought that he had never seen a place quite so lovely. He had never been one to be interested in spiritual contemplation, but here he could feel the calm, could almost breathe it, like a scent on the air.
In a small pool before a smaller building, he came upon two women. They sat on a shallow step in the water and talked, their light robes wet, their hair tousled. Jaryd fought back a smile-if Saalshen had one thing to recommend it, it was this. Serrin women were not shy.
One woman looked up at his approach, and nudged her companion. That woman looked, and…Jaryd nearly stopped in astonishment. It was Sofy. Her hair was much shorter, still long, but now barely past her shoulders. The Idys Mark on her forehead was gone. There was no jewellery on her neck or fingers. One hand bore a bandage, cut with the knife she'd wielded to save his life, back at the Ipshaal crossing. She looked…new.
“Hello,” she said simply, and the serrin woman climbed from the water with a knowing smile. “Sit,” she invited him.
Jaryd wore only light clothes himself, good for both the warmth and his various recovering injuries. He removed his sword belt, placed it and the sword beside the pool, kicked off his sandals, and climbed in beside her. The water chilled pleasantly, and he leaned back against the poolside.
“What is this place?” Jaryd asked.
“You know, I'm not entirely sure. Kels is talmaad, she speaks Lenay well, yet somehow with serrin it's never entirely clear.”
“It looks like some kind of temple complex.”
Sofy nodded. “Oh, it is, for certain. But these people here, they're not priests or monks. Kels said they are all normal serrin, come from all over Saalshen. I think perhaps some of them have had tragedy in their lives, and they come here for solace.”
“I didn't think serrin had religion,” said Jaryd, gazing up at the forest canopy high above.
“Sasha once told me that serrin do not separate things into the spiritual and the nonspiritual. She said it made more sense to say that because the serrin do not organise religion, they find the spiritual in everything, not merely in temples. I think I understand now what she meant.”
Jaryd nodded. “Everything is a small ritual to them.”
They sat in silence, with only the sound of birds, wind in the branches, and the nearby tinkling of water into the pool.
“I never thanked you for saving my life,” said Jaryd after a moment.
Sofy smiled. “After you'd just saved mine five times over.”
Jaryd shrugged. “I'm a warrior, it's my duty. You're no warrior, yet you've saved mine twice now.” The first time was in Algery, when Sofy had ridden in to save him from the cavalry that had surrounded him. “Even if you did forget to leave me a stirrup.”
Sofy splashed at him lightly. “I was still learning to ride then. Though I did fall again just now.”
“That was brave, taking that child. Stupidly brave. The kind of bravery that Sasha has. That I have.”
“You have the ‘stupid’ right. It nearly killed me and the child both. If his mother had hidden, he may have been safer left behind.”
Jaryd shook his head. “Never doubt courage. I was wrong to criticise it in you before. Courageous leaders make mistakes. Cowardly leaders make worse ones.”
“You were correct to criticise me. Good leaders must listen to those who know better than they. You know fighting far better than I do. Far better than most men. I cannot make good decisions entirely on my own. I do not think that any leader can. Nor any person, in any part of life.”
She seemed almost serene. Jaryd had not expected that.
“Why the hair?” he asked her.
“Do you like it?” she asked with girlish pleasure.
“I do.”
“Kels cut it for me-she said that women in the talmaad have evolved many styles for shorter hair, since long hair is so inconvenient for them.”
“Sister Mardola would not like that,” he ventured.
Sofy laughed, very loudly. It was a lovely sound. “No,” she admitted, with dancing eyes. “I daresay she would not.”
“And the Mark of Idys? The Royal Ring?”
Sofy sighed, and swished her feet in the water. “Oh dear. It's so silly. All of it's so silly, isn't it? It's like you told me, I was carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders. And now I arrive here, in this place, and suddenly everything makes sense.”
“Explain it to me, because I could use a little more sense in my life.”
“Some things are good,” Sofy said simply. “Other things are bad.”
Jaryd blinked at her. “That's it?”