Sasha made a gesture for Kristan to wait, and went to her. “Lyth?”
Alythia looked at her, dark eyes waif-like behind a matted fringe of tangled black hair. She straightened immediately, no longer shivering, wiping hair back from her face. Shoulders back and breasts out. They'd always been her proudest asset, Sasha thought sardonically.
“What's the banner for?” Sasha asked when Alythia gave no greeting.
“Apparently I'm a princess of Lenayin,” Alythia said shortly. “I was given it. By them.” With a curt nod down the alley.
“Oh,” said Sasha, realisation dawning. She fought down a smile. She wanted to laugh out loud. Perhaps, several months ago, she would have.
“I was helping,” Alythia continued, acerbically. “I was carrying things and helping to prepare for more wounded, but no they say, I'm a princess of Lenayin and I must stand here in the freezing rain and hold this stupid banner.”
“I think it's a rather nice banner,” Sasha said mildly. Alythia had always loved to remind Sasha of how she, noble elder sister, had chosen the great burdens and duties of princesshood, while Sasha, irresponsible brat, had gone running off to play with horses and swords in the wilds. Evidently Alythia's notion of a royal burden had been one too many boring feasts and dances. Standing in the rain with Lenay soldiers on the battlefield had never entered into her equations.
“They're barbarians,” Alythia said coldly, rewrapping her free arm about herself. She nodded toward the barricade. “They scream and howl louder than the mobs. After the first attack failed, they screamed all kinds of horrible things at their backs. One of them…relieved himself on the dead.” She shuddered.
Sasha nodded. “Aye, all very intimidating, I'm sure. They'll think twice before attacking down this lane again.”
“Good Verenthane soldiers would not conduct themselves in such a manner.”
“About a quarter of them are Verenthane.”
Alythia looked uncomfortable. “Not city-bred Verenthanes they're not.”
“Oh aye, all you city Verenthanes shit jewels and your farts smell like flowers.” Alythia glared at her. Sasha took a deep breath. “Look, Lyth, these are your people. Our people. For better or worse, richer or poorer, these are our blood. For the spirits’ sake, be proud! These are the best fighters on the line, no contest…better even than many of the Nasi-Keth.”
“It takes more than an easy aptitude for killing to impress me,” Alythia said coldly. “Culture and civility are the makings of a modern man. Of course, some people are more easily impressed.”
“You could always go and stay with Steiner,” Sasha retorted, her tone hardening. “If you find present company beneath you.”
“Maybe I will,” Alythia snapped. “Maybe they'll be much more civilised!”
“Aye, maybe you could marry one of them!” Sasha suggested sarcastically. “Then some other house will kill that husband, then you could marry his murderer, and so on, leaving a trail of dead husbands right across Petrodor!”
She'd never seen Alythia so furious. For a moment she thought Alythia might try and strike her. Surely only the realisation that Sasha was much better at that kind of thing prevented her. Sasha knew it had been an incredibly cruel thing to say…but hells, she'd never been able to deal with Alythia. And now Alythia was insulting not just Lenayin, whom she was supposed to represent and champion, but the rural Goeren-yai in particular. Alythia was impossible, and cruel, and she deserved it.
“I'm leaving,” Alythia said hoarsely, her voice shaking, angry tears in her eyes. “I'm going some place warm. Someone else can take this stupid banner and stand here in the rain. I've had enough.”
“No, you haven't,” Sasha replied, her voice hard. “You are a princess of Lenayin. That title is all you have left. If you leave your place here, behind your very own people, and leave that banner lying in the rain, people will know you're a fraud. And then you'll have nothing.”
She stalked off, beckoning to Kristan, and ran down the adjoining alley. She did not look back. She did not want to see her sister standing cold and miserable in the rain, lost and alone, with tears in her eyes. She did not want to feel sorry for her. There were other things to worry about.
By the time she reached Tarae Keep, she was breathing very hard. Some Nasi-Keth umas, three boys and a girl, stood about the arched door leading inside. Even now, a young runner came pelting at high speed past Sasha and Kristan, skidded to a halt before one of the waiting youngsters and recited a breathless message. The other youngster took off within the keep, heading for the stairs and the tower high above. Sasha and Kristan accepted some water from the bucket by the door, then ran for the steps up the inside wall.
“Wait, wait,” Sasha gasped after Kristan. “I…I can't…just wait.” She walked the stairs, heaving deep breaths.
Kristan walked slowly in front. “I hope you fight better than you run,” he remarked, a typical, cocksure young Torovan man. Sasha grabbed his boot and pulled. Kristan gave a yelp and fell face-first on the steps.
“There's a reason you Petrodor men don't arm your women,” Sasha snarled as she walked up over him. “Within two weeks, they'd have killed every last one of you!”
Atop the tower, Kessligh stood with several more senior Nasi-Keth and some prominent men of Dockside, surveying the scene. Three more young umas stood back, waiting for a new message. Kessligh glanced back at her.
“It's good,” Sasha surmised, as men made room for her against the wall. “They fight well, there was nothing even close to a breakthrough. It won't last, of course, but I didn't tell them that.”
Kessligh nodded. “Aye, best not. Weakest barricade?”
“There's three-Aerelo Road, Calachi Lane and Rani Lane. Nineteen dead between them, another ten wounded. The average was about three dead at other barricades. I redeployed some men, and the local Nasi-Keth are keeping a close eye on it…but I can't break up those defences without lowering morale even further. Men will fight hardest for their own neighbourhoods.”
“Aerelo Road is too far into South End,” said Kessligh, gazing south toward Sharptooth. “It would make a good feint, but they'll never get the numbers into that breach to threaten us. The approach to Calachi Lane is exposed, there's water reservoirs and market gardens, no cover from archers…”
“Our archery positions there are excellent,” Sasha agreed. “They left maybe thirty dead on the road in what was a quite brief attack-a larger assault would lose them many more.”
“These madmen don't care about losses,” one Dockside man remarked. “Ours or theirs.”
“No,” Kessligh said, “but anything that breaks up the numbers pouring into a breach is bad for them. Men falling to archery on a narrow road will trip up those running behind, and block the many hundreds behind them. If I'm them, I'd concentrate on Rani Lane, with a diversion toward South End. They'll bet we're worried enough for our flanks to defend South End, but in truth, I think it's the ones who attack South End who'll be easily flanked and cut off by us. Rani Lane is closer to Maerler's Way, so they'll have plenty of men ready to pour into a breach…but it's only two lanes from Fisherman's Lane. Sasha, how fare our valiant highlanders?”
Sasha managed a faint smile. “It's murder before the barricades,” she said. “They looked a little bored, but I found something for them to do. Charge and flank, if the attack comes down Rani Lane.”
Kessligh nearly smiled. “You and your brutal streak, Sasha. Tongren will make chieftain himself on the back of those stories.”
Sasha blinked at him. “You knew about Tongren? He only just told me!”
“Of course I know about Tongren. Fisherman's Lane is central between this keep and South End, it's the perfect place for that highland rabble led by a Cherrovan chieftain's son with a point to prove.” Sasha stared. “Don't look at me like that. I know everything.”