"There's a war coming, Sasha," he murmured in her ear as she clung to him, desperately. "The Nasi-Keth must be strong, for only we can find a middle way between two opposing sides. Yet the Nasi-Keth in Petrodor are divided and weak. I must return to them. And one day soon, you must join me there, for I cannot do what needs to be done without you.
"And yet, when I took you as my uma, I swore that I would give you the freedom to walk your own path." He released her and took her face in both hands, to stare firmly into her tear-blurred eyes. "Walk the path, Sasha. Go to Baen-Tar. Reason with your father and brother. Save that idiot Krayliss's neck, if you can.
"When the Nasi-Keth spread out from the Bacosh hundreds of years ago, they thought to bring their enlightenment to all human lands, not by force but by reason. I knew that when I took Krystoff as uma, and I knew it when I took you. Don't be angry with me. I love Lenayin. I owe much to Lenayin. When I rode here from Petrodor as a young man, I swore that I was doing it not so that Lenayin could serve the Nasi-Keth, but so that the Nasi-Keth could serve Lenayin.
"I have taught you as best I can, Sasha. You have surpassed my wildest hopes." Sasha could only stare, disbelief joining grief upon her face. "I have given so much to Lenayin, but now, I find I have no more left to give. But you do. Whatever you set your mind to, you can achieve. It is your gift. Be very careful what you set your mind to, for not all achievements are great. But know also that you make me proud beyond words."
Sasha embraced him again, and sobbed some more. Kessligh held her. They were cold, and wet, and shivering in the gathering darkness. And yet, despite the fear and grief, Sasha knew that she had not been betrayed. That, for the moment, was enough.
They had been riding for three days and Daryd did not know where they were. The scout that the man Jurellyn had sent to guide them rode ahead, keeping to small horsetrails that sometimes seemed to vanish in the undergrowth. It was raining now, a steady, miserable downpour, and in places the mud sucked at Essey's hooves like a live thing. It was lucky, Daryd thought, that he always rode prepared, even about the fields of Ymoth. Otherwise, he wouldn't have brought his and Rysha's cloaks, which now kept the worst of the rain and chills off their heads. But Mama always warned them of how fast the weather could change and he never rode out without a cloak in the saddlebag.
Thoughts of his parents made him more miserable still. He did not know if they or his brothers and sisters were still alive. The wet saddle was chafing his thighs and his back was sore, but he dared not complain. Behind him, Rysha was no doubt suffering even worse-she was a good enough rider, but not as good as him. Also, she wore a dress, which had to be pulled up for her to sit properly astride. Her legs had been chilled, until the scout had given her a spare pair of his own pants to wear under her dress. She rode with them now all bunched up, her feet lost in the long, trailing pant legs as she clung to Daryd's back.
The scout's name was too difficult for him and Rysha to pronounce, so they just called him the scout. Daryd thought he might be from Tyree, but he wasn't certain. The scout had led them over the Aralya Range, which had been exhausting and treacherous. Always the scout had seemed nervous on that path and several times had led them off the trail to hide in the forest as riders had passed going the other way. The scout seemed to have very good eyesight and had ridden ahead of them a lot to make sure they weren't surprised. Now that they were down on the flat once more, he stayed close and made sure they didn't get lost on the narrow trails. Or maybe they were lost, Daryd thought. The scout didn't appear to be lost, though. He always seemed to know which way to go.
"Daryd, I'm hungry." Daryd reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of berries the scout had given them. He gave them to Rysha.
"Here, be careful. Don't drop any." She didn't. They had better food, for proper meals, but these were good for snacks, and the scout was good at finding them growing wild. The forest here was thick and, despite his wet clothes and aching muscles, Daryd thought it very beautiful, even in the rain. The pine trees seemed to be taller here and the spirits that lived in such trees would be great and majestic. He wondered if the trees would keep getting taller all the way to Baen-Tar. Maybe they'd be so tall in Baen-Tar, he'd barely be able to see their tops.
The berries tasted funny, but Rysha ate without complaint. Rysha had barely complained all trip, not even when the rain had started and her legs had chilled. Daryd had been amazed, and still was. She used to complain about everything. She'd slept against his side on the hard ground at camp and had sometimes squirmed and whimpered in her sleep. But, come the next morning, she'd risen bleary eyed, eaten breakfast and even insisted on helping Daryd to saddle and feed Essey. It had been enough to freeze all of Daryd's own complaints on his lips. If Rysha was not complaining, certainly he was not allowed to.
"Daryd," she said after a while, as the rain was easing. "Why are we going to Baen-Tar?"
"To meet King Torvaal," Daryd explained. "King Torvaal can send armies to fight the Hadryn."
"But what about Lord Krayliss? Auntie Sedy says Lord Krayliss is Lord of Taneryn and that he's our friend."
"Papa says Lord Krayliss is just a big bag of wind," Daryd replied. "Lord Krayliss says he's a relative of the Udalyn, but he doesn't do anything. Papa says he's not really interested in helping us, he just says that he is, so that people will like him."
"But why doesn't he do anything? If he was really a relative, he'd help us.
"Taneryn's a different province, Rysha. They speak Taasti, there
… and a few other things I can't remember. They worship the spirits differently. Papa says they don't really know very much about the Udalyn. They haven't really seen us for a hundred years. And Taneryn's not very powerful, and not very rich, not like the Hadryn. So Lord Krayliss just makes a lot of noise, but he couldn't really help us if he wanted to."
"What language does the king speak?" Rysha asked, as Daryd ducked a low, wet branch.
"Lenay. Everyone around the middle of Lenayin speaks Lenay, like the scout."
"It sounds funny."
Daryd smiled. It felt good to smile. He'd barely smiled in three days. "Probably we sound funny to them, too."
"You sound funny," Rysha retorted. "I don't." Then, "Is the king a Verenthane?"
"All the big nobles and royals are Verenthanes," said Daryd. "Taneryn's the only province where they're not."
"I don't like Verenthanes."
"How do you know that?" Daryd challenged. "You've never met any Verenthanes."
"The Hadryn are Verenthanes," Rysha objected. "They call us nasty names because we're not Verenthanes too, I heard Auntie Sedy say so."
"The Hadryn don't count," Daryd said firmly. "Even lots of other Lenay Verenthanes don't like the Hadryn." A thought occurred to him. "I think the scout might be a Verenthane."
"Do you think?" Rysha sounded unhappy at the prospect.
"Well, I can't tell if he's Goeren-yai. So he might be Verenthane. Why don't we try and ask him?"
"No, Daryd, dooon't," Rysha complained. Finally, a real Rysha whine. Daryd grinned.
"Papa says King Torvaal's a good man," said Daryd, changing the subject. "He's done nice things for the Goeren-yai before. I'm sure he'll help us, if we ask him."
They ate a lunch of bread and dried meat by a small stream that rushed and gurgled from the recent rain. The birds were different here, Daryd noted. Little blue and black bobtails flittered and chirped around the streamside bushes. Yellow flower birds snapped at insects above the rushing water. Some small, plain brown birds with long beaks pecked at things on the water surface near the streamside, where the flow was not as fast. The only birds Daryd recognised were the black-and-green wood ducks that swam further downstream, where a big, rotting log had formed a still pool behind a dam.