As he dismounted, stablehands rushing to take his horse, she caught sight of a second group of very different riders. They wore the dark skins and leathers of the Goeren-yai, their hair long and wild, some with rings in their ears that glinted in the torchlight. The banner carried by one was their only identification-green with three diagonal black stripes. Taneryn. One man in particular was giving orders-a huge man in a big fur coat with a bushy beard to match.
Anyse's arms were clearly tiring. "Oh Anyse," Sofy scolded her, "it's barely raining!"
"Your Highness will catch a chill," Anyse said stubbornly.
"You're getting wet, you should be more worried for yourself."
"Goeren-yai don't catch chills," Anyse replied. "Only stubborn princesses who should have more sense than to venture out on stormy nights."
Then Damon was approaching, his mud-spattered boots splashing in puddles. In his full colours, armour and sword, Sofy barely recognised him… until he pulled off his helm, revealing a face tired and wet with rain, his dark hair plastered flat to his head. He saw Sofy and managed a weary smile.
Sofy refrained with difficulty from hugging him, settling instead for a sisterly kiss on both his cheeks. "Walk with me," he told her. "I must present Lord Krayliss immediately to father. No doubt there are things to be said."
"Lord Krayliss!" Sofy gasped, hurrying to walk at his side. "So that's who that big man with the beard is!"
Anyse gave up trying to cover Sofy's head, walking instead at her heels alongside a Royal Guardsman who took Damon's helm for him.
"What happened?" Sofy asked Damon as they followed the torchbearers toward Soros Square. "Why is Krayliss here? Did he come willingly? I haven't been able to discover a thing lately; it's been so frustrating!"
Damon smiled faintly. "Sasha fought a duel against Farys Varan, son of Udys Varan."
Sofy stared at him, aghast. "A duel! Is she…?"
"Our sister is well," Damon pronounced, with more than an edge of tension. "Farys is not." Sofy clasped a hand to her chest with a gasp of relief. "Krayliss apparently took this as a sign from the spirits
… one in particular he called the Synnich. He now claims Sasha is guided by the Synnich and has placed himself under the protection of her word. Otherwise, I'm sure he and Lord Usyn would be fighting to the death right about now."
"A duel!" Sofy exclaimed once more, in disbelief. Past that announcement, she'd heard very little Damon said. "What was Sasha doing fighting a duel? You swore to me you'd look after her!"
"Sofy," said her brother with exasperation, "one does not "look after" Sasha, any more than one "looks after" a wild animal. She does what she does, and the best any in her vicinity can hope is to remain alive at the end of it." And to Sofy's continuing, accusatory stare, he added, "Farys insulted Krystoff's memory. It was calculated, I'm sure his elders put him up to it."
"Oh dear lords," Sofy exclaimed. And shook her head in despair. "Old family history. I swear nothing causes more catastrophes in this kingdom than old family history. Shall we ever be free of it?"
"Twelve years is not old history, Sofy," Damon said sombrely. "I remember Krystoff well." Sofy gazed at him. He seemed more serious, somehow, than when he had left. More adult. The look in his eyes was the look of a young man concerned with matters far greater than himself. Prior to this ride, there had not been so many of those.
"What is it, Damon?" Sofy asked him. "What happened out there?"
Damon sighed and shook his head. "I'll tell you later," he said.
The road opened onto Soros Square, a vast expanse of stone paving centred by the Verenthane Angel of Mercy. On the left were grand stone buildings fronting the square with ornate facades, pillars, arches and windows. To the right, the great front gate, open to the traffic of early evening and surrounded by many guards who warmed themselves near the blazing fires beyond the wall.
"Sasha sends her love," Damon added.
"She is coming to Rathynal?" Sofy asked.
"She'd better," Damon said darkly. "Krayliss will make a fuss if she doesn't."
"And Kessligh?"
"That was the impression." Sofy was glad to hear that… and yet nervous, too. There were probably only three men she'd known in her life whom she'd never been able to charm: Her father, Koenyg and Yuan Kessligh Cronenverdt. He loved Sasha, that was clear to her, even if Sasha was sometimes uncertain, and the relationship they shared was utterly remarkable in its unlikeliness. And yet, somehow, when he looked at Sofy, she felt it was as if he saw straight through her and was considering the texture of her bones.
"Oh well," she sighed, trying to get her thoughts back into order. "More people. I swear I'll go crazy trying to remember them all."
"I doubt Kessligh will be attending the events you're organising," Damon reassured her.
"No?" Sofy said, with a sudden, humorous inspiration. "You're certain he wouldn't like a formal dance? Perhaps a tour of the artworks? Or maybe some flower arrangements? Arrangements are all the fashion in Petrodor now, it's becoming quite an art."
"I'm sure all the important people will have far more important matters to attend to," Damon retorted. Sofy scowled at that. "Particularly Kessligh."
"Not true!" said Sofy, skipping sideways to jab a delighted finger at him. "Kessligh loves gardening, Sasha's told me all about his precious vegetable patch! She says he even grows ythala flowers in rows between the vegetables because they're good for the soil!"
Damon sighed and swiped at his flattened hair, now a little damp in the light rain. "Nasi-Keth are strange," he said with a shrug. "I know Sasha doesn't have much time for flower arrangements."
"I don't know about that! Sasha loves all wild things."
"Exactly. She wouldn't understand why you need to cut its head off to make it look pretty. And I'd agree with her."
"Well, at least it wasn't the two of you who fought the duel," Sofy said with a meaningful sideways look. "It sounds like you have finally become at least civil with each other." Damon nodded glumly, but his attention was wandering. They passed the square's central statue, the angel's wings and outstretched arms making a ghostly silhouette against the gloomy sky. Ahead, the spires of the Saint Ambellion Temple soared into the night. "Damon, what's wrong? Why are you so brooding?"
Damon's jaw tightened as he walked. "I sent a scout from the Falcon Guard to follow the Hadryn," he said in a low voice. "Several scouts, actually. They volunteered. I was worried our wise Lord Usyn might do something stupid."
"Like?"
"Attack the Udalyn," Damon said grimly. "Every bit of Goeren-yai trouble the Hadryn get from Krayliss, they conveniently blame on the Udalyn. It's as good an excuse as they've had in decades. And with father's mind as it is lately, I don't know if he'll stop them."
Sofy did not pretend to understand everything about those old troubles… except that the Hadryn had wanted to destroy the Udalyn since long before there was ever a Lenay king. But she did understand some of Damon's responsibilities on rides to troublesome provinces beneath the king's banner. "Are you allowed to send scouts across the Hadryn border?" she asked anxiously.
"They're scouts," Damon said shortly. "Wild men of Lenayin. They go where they please… and, like I said, they volunteered."
Sofy guessed that the answer to her question, therefore, was "no." She gave her brother a long, misgiving look. "I hope you know what you're doing," she said quietly.
Damon sighed. "Me too."
The procession passed the wide steps leading up to the doors of the great temple. The Royal Palace loomed opposite, its many tall windows ablaze with light, guards waiting at the doors to the Grand Hall entrance. They crossed the road from the temple to the palace and climbed the wet stairs, Damon recalling his manners to offer an arm to his sister, approaching those doors.