“We can't spare the people, Sasha,” Kessligh said sombrely. He stared at the fire of Palopy House, high on the ridgeline above. “It's a long climb up there. We could lose people on the way up and back. Only our best fighters would be useful fighting in the open streets and if we had losses, or became entangled or cut off by the mobs, Dockside would be vulnerable. Rhillian knew that when she embarked on her present course.”
“You…” Sasha blinked at him. “You didn't know this would happen, though?”
“Saalshen has always been vulnerable to human enemies in Petrodor,” said Kessligh. “Steiner or Maerler, or some combination of smaller houses, could always have wiped them out if they tried. Their main protection has never been their swords, Sasha, but their trade. Even now, all the reports are that Steiner and their allies remain firmly locked up behind their gates, despite some in the mobs calling on them to come out and fight the serrin. The Saalshen trade is too valuable. Steiner is now caught between offending Saalshen, and offending the archbishop.
“Rhillian did not count on the mobs, Sasha. Inside Petrodor, most of the populace are more or less controlled by those who owe some gratitude to Saalshen. But on the fringes, in the slums, and in Riverside in particular, the patachis have little sway. The archbishop himself has always been constrained by the divided loyalties of his lower priests, but now that balance too has swung. I never thought it would happen exactly like this. But I have warned Rhillian many times that this control that the patachis exert upon the people is merely a temporary illusion, and that it's only the wealthy, and the Nasi-Keth, who feel they owe Saalshen anything. This is not about faith, Sasha, it's all about power-faith is merely the tool by which power is attained. Like you said, faith may indeed be good, but the nature of power is ever unchanging. It corrupts any goodness faith may have had. Rhillian was always too clever for her own good, she always saw the complications, but missed the simplicities. Amongst humans, power rules all. Only now, perhaps, does she grasp what that means.”
“I'm scared for her,” Sasha said quietly. “She's my friend.”
“I know. I fear for her too. But Errollyn was right, she should have left the games of power to humans. If she'd joined with me, this wouldn't have happened. But she thought she knew better. She was wrong.”
“She's not a bad person,” Sasha said stubbornly, fighting the pain in her throat.
“No,” Kessligh said quietly. “They never are.” He straightened and wiped back his lank, wet hair. “Best you get back down there. Try to get some semblance of basic formation behind those barricades, they need to know what happens after the first wave hits.”
“Pandemonium,” Sasha said drily.
“Yes. Tell them that. That's why the formations are so critical.”
“This is formation fighting,” Sasha complained. The thought of going back downstairs made her slightly dizzy. All those people, all rushing around. “Lenays rarely fight like this and, with all respect, you never taught it.”
“No, this is street fighting,” Kessligh corrected. “These streets make for small formations, and Lenays fight in small groups all the time. Remember the training hall drills, five against five.”
“I never took part in those,” she said doubtfully. “Too much pushing.”
“Yes, but you watched them. Just the basics, Sasha-these men have basic drill, some of them are quite good. Just make sure they know when to move and where. I'm not sure they all understand the concept of a reserve yet.”
Sasha sighed. “All right. I know that much.” She looked at him. “You're confident?”
“I have no preconceptions,” Kessligh said grimly. “That's why I win.” He gazed across the cramped and cluttered docks, the squared brick and stone, the crumbling walls, all wet and grey beneath cloud and smoke. The place where he had been born, and had abandoned. Gerrold had abandoned the docks to defend his beloved serrin. Alaine held no appeal for people facing the prospect of war. Kessligh Cronenverdt had returned. He ruled here now.
Sasha ran back down the tower steps, onto the battlements where some archers were inspecting their arrows, and down the long steps inside the wall to the keep floor below. Within the shelter of buildings that had until recently served as stables, women now gathered piles of linen, water and medicines, ready to tend the wounded. Through a doorway, Sasha could see at least one Nasi-Keth woman amongst them, giving directions. She thought of Yulia, who had thought to become a medicine woman. She would still be alive had she done so. Sasha shook off unhelpful thoughts and strode to the main gate in the wall.
Near the docks was a straggly group of twenty men, in roughspun pants and sodden shirts, their hair plastered wet. Some grasped proper halberds and spears, and a few carried swords. There were quite a few axes and hammers, and most had fish knives in their belts. None had any more armour than the odd leather jacket. Dear spirits. But Kessligh was right, they drilled better than their appearances might have led her to expect, and all the long weapons were well placed at the formation's front.
Along the dockfront, numerous other groups had similarly gathered. Outside of Lenayin, this was what it meant to be militia-working men, of various trades, who occasionally fought. It offended her highland sensibilities. Men who went to war should at least know what they were doing. To send unskilled mobs of fishermen and paupers at each other's throats with improvised tools was not civilised. And to think the lowlanders called Lenays barbarians…
Before she could intercede, Sasha glimpsed someone striding hurriedly up the docks, holding what appeared to be a sleeping child in his arms. It was Errollyn-she'd have recognised that lithe, muscular stride anywhere. She ran to him, noting the hard concern on his face…and saw that he carried not a child, but a small woman. Her light blonde hair was wet not only with rain, but with blood, and there was the unmistakable shape of a crossbow bolt through her left calf.
“Aisha!” Sasha gasped as she arrived at Errollyn's side. He kept walking, as fast as he could without jolting the bundle in his arms. Sasha struggled to keep up, half jogging, noting that Aisha seemed unconscious. “What happened?”
“She was found near Sharptooth, the girl who found her said she murmured something about Maerler and treachery, then fell unconscious.” Sasha had never seen Errollyn so upset, it radiated from his every tense muscle.
“Is she hurt besides the leg?”
“She's taken a blow on the head, her hand is cut and her shoulder seems damaged. Her head worries me most.”
They strode past the drilling men, past piles of refuse from which children ran to and fro, lugging whatever they could carry down the lanes to the barricades.
They turned down Fishnet Alley, and soon into the Gianna house courtyard. Tashyna sat up abruptly where she was leashed to the courtyard tree, tail wagging warily. Her coat was a little wet, otherwise the rain seemed not to bother her at all. Sasha ran to push open the door into little Elra Halmady's room, and Errollyn carried Aisha to the neighbouring bed. The little girl was awake, her left arm above the covers and wrapped in wet, pungent cloth. She watched as Errollyn placed Aisha carefully down and began cutting away her pants from around the protruding bolt. One of the Gianna sisters came in, saw Aisha and dashed off, yelling for medicines and bandages.
Errollyn inspected the bolt, now thick with congealed blood where it stuck from Aisha's flesh. Then he felt at her throat, seeking a pulse. He began gently feeling her head around where the blood seemed thickest. He murmured something to himself in a Saalsi dialect that Sasha could not recognise. It sounded suspiciously like a prayer.
“Is she a serrin?” asked Elra from the neighbouring bed.
“Yes, she is,” said Sasha.
“Is she going to be all right?”
“She's going to be fine.” Sasha placed a hand on Errollyn's shoulder. “Errollyn. She rode with us in battle against the Hadryn heavy cavalry, she can survive a little blow on the head. She'll limp for a while once you take the bolt out, but I've seen your medicines work miracles. She'll be fine.”