"You can't put that at risk for me. When I found out Koenyg's plans I thought it was the worst thing in the world that could possibly happen to me. But now, to think that I might be responsible in some way for more of what I saw on those battlefields…" Sofy shook her head, adamantly. "It's the least I can do, Sasha. If I need to marry someone I dislike to help keep Lenayin whole, it shall be a vastly smaller sacrifice than the alternative. I won't be the first to suffer such a fate. I'll survive."
Sasha held Sofy's hand, tightly. There was no sign of tears in her sister's eyes. It was clear that she had given this much thought, and had arrived at some kind of peace with it. Past the sadness, Sasha felt a pride so intense she thought she might burst. "Koenyg might have changed his mind, Sofy," she said gently. "Father too. Their plans haven't worked out anything like they'd anticipated."
Sofy gave a sad smile and shook her head. "You don't know Koenyg or Father as well as I do. These preparations are far advanced. Lenayin would lose face to back out now. In Koenyg's eyes, to lose face is to die. And Father… has not changed his mind on anything since Krystoff died."
"We can hope," Sasha offered.
Sofy squeezed her hand tightly. "We can hope," she agreed.
After breakfast, Sasha rode to the cottage her father's men had selected, further back along the valley. Ahead and to the rear rode the men of her vanguard who had protected her through both battles, and now sat astride with the hard-edged pride of those who had earned great honour and respect amongst their peers. Directly at Sasha's rear rode Jaryd, in the full colours and armour of Commander of the Falcon Guard, and Captain Akryd, likewise resplendent as Captain of the Red Swords.
It was mid-morning and the sun was threatening to break clear of the ridges above, sunlight now falling golden upon most of the valley floor. Encamped across the valley floor and up either sloping side massed the king's army.
She gazed across the trees and fields along the terraced slopes as they rode, marvelling at the wide variety of crops, the ingenuity of downhill irrigation ditches and the profusion of trees that kept the soil stable. Here and there were talleryn posts, engraved with the curling script of Edu writings. Colourful flags flew like streamers above long terraces of grain… to keep the birds off, Sasha guessed. And they were beautiful, swirling in the valley breeze. Along fence posts there were windchimes, making gentle music of the breeze.
Soon the small column of riders came upon a cottage, with many horses tethered by a bend, guarded by soldiers. Flags flapped, the royal flag most prominently of all. The lead rider halted them short of the other horses, and they dismounted.
Jaryd and Akryd walked with her along the road toward the path that led up to the cottage, as the vanguardsmen remained behind.
A Verenthane Royal Guard lieutenant stopped the trio at the base of those steps, resplendent in full colours and gleaming helm. "M'Lady," he said, with a very faint bow. "You must surrender your weapons to enter the king's presence."
Sasha eyed the horses tethered further up the road. They were splendid indeed, and several were of various shades of white or grey, a colour favoured by breeders from the royal stables. "No Lenay commander yet has come to parley between armies without weapons," she replied to the lieutenant.
"M'Lady, it is the king," the lieutenant replied sternly. "You must disarm."
Sasha repressed a snort of disgust, and gave a signal to her companions. Together, they turned about and began to walk back to their horses. "M'Lady!" From behind there were footsteps and mutterings of consternation. The three were halfway back to the horses when there came another call from behind. "M'Lady, we have reconsidered!"
Sasha stopped, turned about, and gave the gathering of soldiers a very displeased look. "Told you it would work," she murmured from the side of her mouth at Jaryd, as they began their walk back.
"M'Lady is truly insightful," Jaryd muttered. Sasha gave him a worried look. Probably it was not a good idea to have him here. But then, such talks required the presence of the most senior and, with Tyrun dead, that meant Jaryd. Lord or peasant, he was still Commander of the Falcon Guard.
Sasha allowed Jaryd to take the lead up the stairs. There were flowerpots at the cottage entrance, where several more Royal Guards stood at attention. Several long-stemmed flowers were bent. Sasha stepped across to them, with a disapproving cluck of the tongue at the guardsmen.
"We are guests in these houses, gentlemen," she said sternly, straightening the flowers. "Kindly look after their property as you would your own. Or else the house spirits will become upset with the mess, and haunt your sleep."
And with that, she walked inside, satisfied with the disquiet on several faces at that last remark. Even Verenthanes could become superstitious of Goeren-yai spirits, in the land of the Udalyn.
The house was plain and simple like the many others that dotted the valley. Men stood about a dining table and turned to observe the new entrants. Sasha saw her father, slim and dark in a black cloak against the morning's chill. He wore mail beneath, with leather shoulder guards and heavy boots. Sasha's gaze lingered. She could not recall the last time she'd seen her father in mail, with a sword at his side. A childhood parade, perhaps.
Koenyg, of course, was similarly attired. A king in waiting. Damon leaned against the far wall, a cup in hand. While the others looked grim, Damon's expression was sour. From his posture and expression, and his place at the back of the room, Sasha guessed that he did not feel himself to be in good company. She hoped he'd been making a pain of himself.
Of the others, well… here was Great Lord Kumaryn, stiff as a poker. Spirits knew why anyone thought him important enough to include in this gathering. And there was Great Lord Rydysh of Ranash no less. Also present was Lord Arastyn of Tyree… no, Sasha corrected herself, Great Lord Arastyn of Tyree. His handsome gaze, fixed on Jaryd, held a curious, expressionless intensity.
The last two great lords were Lord Faras of Isfayen and Lord Parabys of Neysh. The south, Sasha thought darkly. The other large piece of the Verenthane puzzle. The south had harboured Verenthanes long before they became popular in the rest of Lenayin.
"My Lords," Sasha said by way of greeting. She did not, she was surprised to realise, feel particularly anxious. There were nearly seven thousand men under her command. Her forces could be destroyed if attacked, but the catastrophe would not be hers alone. Hers was a position of power. However her father and Koenyg might desire it, she would not grovel or plead. "We are all known to each other, I'm sure. Shall we sit?"
King Torvaal gazed at her for a long moment. Everyone awaited his command. Koenyg, Sasha noted, seemed to be grinding his teeth. As Commander of Armies, and protector of the realm, surely it grated to be outranked in such a setting. Even by his king. The tension in the air felt different than she'd expected. Men held their tongues and their tempers. They stood with a faintly awkward manner, as if uncertain of their standing. King Torvaal had not needed to ride forth from Baen-Tar and deal with a military matter for quite some time. Since the Great War, in fact, when he'd been barely more than a lad. No doubt the lords wondered if the king was truly up to the task.
Well. Sasha wondered herself.
"Sofy is with you?" Torvaal asked.
"Concerned, were you?" Sasha nearly remarked, but refrained. "She is," she said instead.
"Did she discover the wedding plans?" Sombrely.
Sasha stared at him for a long moment. "You don't sound surprised."
"It was necessary," said Torvaal, closing his eyes briefly. "It remains nec essary." The eyes opened and fixed on her directly, with more than their usual impassivity. Brooding. "The marriage remains as arranged. It shall proceed because Lenayin requires it. On this point I shall brook no argument."