“Well, no. But what the Elissians did to us, what they did to all of those people, was bad. Evil.”
“No argument here.”
“And what we were trying to do for them, in helping them to safety in Saalshen, was good. I risked my life to save that child, and to help the rest of them. That was good. What Asym did to allow us to escape, that was even better.”
“Eslen,” Jaryd gave the formal agreement, and made the spirit sign at his forehead. To his surprise, Sofy did the same.
“He killed a lot of Elissians, yet I cannot deny the goodness of his actions,” Sofy continued. She paused a moment. Then added, “I killed one Elissian, and I did not feel sad for it. That stunned me more than the killing itself. I mean, this is me, Jaryd.” She laughed again. “The girl who used to scold the palace cat for killing a mouse. And so when I was dumped on the far Ipshaal bank I set about searching through my own soul for the horror that I expected to find at this awful thing that I had done with my own hands.” She looked at her bandaged hand, floating in the cool water. “But I found nothing.” She gazed at him with large dark eyes. “I was not sorry, Jaryd. I think I was even glad.”
“Perhaps you are a warrior like Sasha after all,” Jaryd said with amusement.
Sofy shook her head, adamantly. “No. I'll never be a warrior, I have not the discipline to learn skills that disinterest and frighten me. Nor the aptitude, no doubt. But I have realised for the first time what is wrong, and what is right. My old values mean nothing now. This new understanding has swept them away.”
“There's nothing like seeing a slaughter first hand to rearrange your priorities,” Jaryd said sombrely.
Sofy nodded. “I've seen killing before. I was with you and Sasha on the ride north…”
“I remember well.”
“But here…” She gazed up at the trees, and at the surrounding temples. “It's so beautiful. My husband seeks to destroy all this. I had thought to excuse him, thinking that he has the right to an opinion, being the representative of so many. But I come here, and I remember the killing in Tracato and now upon the Ipshaal, and I realise that he and all his opinions and his priests and his lords can jump in the sea for all I care. No one is entitled to that opinion. Let alone to act upon it with an army of a hundred thousand.”
“One fifty,” Jaryd said quietly. “At least, if the Meraini come, and now the Elissians.”
Sofy glanced down, with sudden fear. “And to think that I might have helped to make such a thing possible…”
Jaryd caught her hand. “You have the kindest heart of any person I have known. You always think of others first. It is not in your nature to condemn and wish death upon people. But you walk the path, and you learn.”
“I still don't wish death upon them,” Sofy murmured. “But I do want them stopped.”
“And there is no other way but war,” Jaryd completed.
Sofy looked back to him, and her eyes were clear. “I know,” she said simply. And she smiled, and looked around in exasperation. “It's foolish. I am committing to a fight we probably can't win. Most likely we'll all die a horrible death, me especially for betraying my lawful husband. But I don't care anymore.” She beamed at him. “I feel free.”
Unadorned and water-wet in her robe, she looked free. Jaryd had never seen a woman more beautiful.
“And what of your marriage?” he asked her.
Sofy made a face. “The serrin say that life is a road strewn with obstacles. This obstacle I shall manoeuvre around somehow. Perhaps talk to the priests, consider the possibilities.”
“Whoever wins the war,” Jaryd added, “the other is unlikely to survive.” His heart was thumping, with the dull excitement of possibility.
“That is certainly true,” Sofy said.
“In which case,” he obliged, “it makes little sense to be religiously observing marriage vows now.”
Sofy made a conceding dip of her head. “We are in Saalshen after all,” she agreed.
“Where marriage itself is a rare and foreign concept,” Jaryd added. He glanced about. “And would you look, I cannot see a priest anywhere.”
Sofy threw her head back and laughed. Then gave him a look that was pure devilry, and went straight to his groin. “I don't want to talk of husbands anymore,” she said, and climbed onto Jaryd's lap in the water. She brushed wet hair from her face, lips nearly touching his. “Such a pointless distraction, when there are better things to think about.”
Their lips touched. Her body enfolded to his, cool and firm, her lips and breath and eyes so familiar, as though they had never been apart. As though things had always been this way. She smiled at him, and kissed him again, and again. Some serrin may have walked past. Neither they, not their human guests, thought to mind.
It was late evening upon leaving the Shuen Vaal, the shadows of the surrounding mountains darkening the streets even as the sky above remained blue. Sasha heard it first, the sound of shouting, and then of glass breaking.
“Trouble,” she murmured to Bergen. They rounded a corner and found several people standing before a house whose windows had been broken. Beyond, people were running, and shouts came louder. The house bore a red star on the front door-a serrin house.
“Let's just get back to the temple without any trouble,” said Bergen. Sasha felt into the pocket of her dress as she walked, for the incision that made the knife strapped to her thigh accessible. Nearby, she could smell something burning. Bells clanged alarm, and city folk opened high windows to peer out and stare across the rooftops.
Stamentaast came running, green-vested men wielding torches and swords. People on the streets stood aside for them, and Stamentaast paused before another star-marked house to throw stones at the windows. Two men broke down the door and rushed inside. Bergen grasped Sasha's arm and dragged her on. He sensed that her hand was itching toward her knife; surely his own did the same.
Further along, the scene became worse. A house was fully ablaze, threatening to take its neighbours with it. City folk were crowding a wagon arrived from the lake with basins of water, throwing bucketfuls onto the flames. Sasha thought that if half the city burned, it would serve them right. A half-serrin family huddled by a street side with two children, defended by several city folk, as locals spat and threw kicks and stones at them. The children were terrified and crying, the parents desperate.
“We have more important things to do than die needlessly here!” Bergen snarled at Sasha, tightening his grip. Sasha fumed as Bergen dragged her past. Further on, Stamentaast had gathered more serrin and part-serrin, rounding them up with kicks and threatened swords. There was some argument over what to do with them. A young man, with bright blue eyes like Aisha's, shoved at a Stamentaast who kicked his mother. The Stamentaast ran him through with a sword. The mother wailed and screamed as he collapsed.
Again, Bergen dragged Sasha past. She was crying. Stamentaast saw, but the street was full of smoke, and some were holding their own handkerchiefs over their mouths. Further ahead were wagons, empty now, driven rattling over the cobbles by more Stamentaast. Soon they would be full, no doubt. Where would they take the serrin they caught? Where was Tershin?
And then, “Rhillian and Aisha,” Sasha muttered. “Bergen, we have to see to them.”
“Likely they're back at the temple already,” Bergen replied, finally letting go of her arm.
Sasha took a right turn. Bergen followed, striding fast. She broke into a run on a stretch of empty street, then walked again as more Stamentaast appeared, running from doorway to doorway, checking on residences. There was a body on the cobblestones, lifeless in a pool of blood. An old serrin lady, Sasha saw as they passed, collapsed on her walking cane.
A little further on, two Stamentaast were driving a pair of serrin women up the street with kicks and yells. Sasha found her course shifting into their path.