"The evidence of that doesn't equal your conclusion," Kessligh remarked with amusement.
Sasha gave Damon an exasperated look. "This is what passes for entertainment in the great mind of Kessligh Cronenverdt," she told him. "Belittling me in front of others."
"What's not entertaining about it?" Damon said warily. Sasha made a face at him.
"I assume you've made comment on Sasha's new appendage?" Kessligh continued wryly, with a nod at her tri-braid. "She insists it's all the fashion. Myself, I wonder why she can't hold to Torovan jewellery and knee-high boots like good, proper Lenay children."
Sasha grinned. Damon blinked, and sipped his tea to cover the silence as he tried to figure out what to say. "You approve?" he said finally.
Kessligh made an expansive shrug. "Approve, disapprove…" He held a hand in Sasha's direction. "Behold, young Damon, a twenty-year-old female. In the face of such as this, of what consequence is it for me to approve or disapprove?"
Damon shrugged, faintly. "Most Lenay families are less accommodating. Tradition, as you say." Sasha raised an eyebrow. It was more confrontational than she'd expected from Damon.
"This is my uma," Kessligh replied calmly. "I am her uman. In the ways of the serrin, and thus the ways of the Nasi-Keth, it is not for uman to dictate paths to their uma. She will go her own way, and find her own path. Should she have chosen study and herbal lore instead of swordwork and soldiery, that would also have been her choice… although a somewhat poorer teacher I would have made, no doubt.
"So she feels a common cause with the Goeren-yai of Lenayin." He shrugged. "Hardly surprising, having lived amongst them for twelve of her twenty years. The mistake you all make, be you Verenthanes or romantics like Krayliss, is to think of her as anything other than my uma. What she does, and what she chooses to wear in her hair, she does as uma to me. This is a separate thing from politics. Quite frankly, it does not concern you. Nor should it concern our king."
"Our king concerns himself with many things," Damon said mildly.
"Not this," said Kessligh. "He owes me too much. And King Torvaal always repays his debts." Damon gazed down at his tea cup. "Baerlyn is not the most direct line from Baen-Tar to Taneryn. What purpose does this detour serve?"
Damon glanced up. "Your assistance," he said plainly. "You are as greatly respected in Taneryn as here. My father feels, and I agree, that your presence in Taneryn would calm the mood of the people."
"The king's justice must be the king's," Kessligh replied, a hard stare unfixing upon the young prince's face. "I cannot take his place. Such a role is more yours than mine."
"We have concern about the people of Hadryn taking matters into their own hands," said Damon. "Lenayin has been mercifully free of civil strife over the last century. The king would not see such old history repeated. Your presence would be valued."
"I claim no special powers over the hard men of Hadryn," said Kessligh, with a shake of his head. "The north has never loved me. During the Great War, my successes stole much thunder from the northern lords, and now Lenay history records that forces under my command saved them from certain defeat. That could have been acceptable, were I Verenthane, or a northerner. But I'm afraid the north views Goeren-yai and Nasi-Keth as cut from the same cloth-irredeemably pagan and godless. I do not see what comfort my presence there could bring."
"But you will come?" Damon persisted.
Kessligh sipped his tea, his eyes not leaving Damon's. "Should my Lord King command it," he said, in measured tones. "Of course, you understand that Sasha must therefore accompany me?"
Damon blinked at him. And glanced across at Sasha. "These events make for great uncertainty. I had thought for her to remain in Baerlyn, with a complement of Falcon Guard for protection."
"You'd what?" Sasha asked, with no diplomacy at all.
Kessligh held up a hand, and she held her tongue, fuming. He unfolded his legs, in one lithe move, and leaned forward to pour some more tea from the earthen-glaze teapot. "She's safer at my side," he said. And gazed closely at Damon. "And her continued presence here, away from me, would only create an inviting target, wouldn't you say? In these uncertain times, it's best to be sure."
Two
"I 'm safer at your side?" Sasha whispered incredulously, as she walked with Kessligh out through the inn's rear exit, and into the paved courtyard at the back. "What am I, some Baen-Tar noble wench to be protected at every turn?".
The night chill was sharp, breath frosting before her lips as she spoke. The remains of a declining fire burned within the courtyard, surrounded by a great many men, with a cup in hand, or placed somewhere nearby. Kessligh walked so as to keep well clear of the fire's light, and together they passed unnoticed in the dark.
"Damon's not here for me, Sasha," Kessligh said grimly, hands in the pockets of his jacket as he strode. "He's here for you."
"For me? He doesn't even want me along…"
"Damn it, pay attention," Kessligh rebuked her, with more than a trace of irritation. "Haven't you grasped it yet? Despite everything I've been telling you, with your friends and drinking sessions, and that new growth sprouting from the side of your head? Krayliss is making his move, Sasha. It's a desperate, stupid, foolish move, but no more so than one might have expected from Krayliss. He threatens martyrdom. If we're all not extremely careful, he might just get it."
Sasha frowned. She didn't like it when Kessligh got like this. He made everything seem so complicated. Why couldn't he just accept what she was, and how she felt? Why couldn't everyone? "Krayliss…" and she shook her head, trying to clear her mind. "Krayliss can't use me as a figurehead." Trying to be rational. "I'm a woman, he'd never accept a woman as his symbol of Goeren-yai revival…"
"You're worse than a woman," Kessligh cut in, "you're Nasi-Keth. Krayliss hates all foreigners, Sasha-that means me, the lowlanders and the serrin equally, he makes no distinction. But you're the closest thing to a genuine Goeren-yai within the royal line that he's got, and he might just be desperate enough. Have you seen the condition of the Falcon Guard's horses? Damon made the ride from Baen-Tar fast. He came to secure you, to make sure Krayliss couldn't reach you first. That's the doing of your father's advisors. Your father has little enough fear of you. They have plenty."
"My father's advisors now include Wyna Telgar," Sasha muttered. "To hear Sofy tell of it, anyhow. I'm sure my eldest brother's wife would not have been pleased to hear that her father is dead. I wonder why Koenyg did not come himself, with that dragon breathing fire down his neck."
"Prince Koenyg is a stickler for the rules," Kessligh said grimly. "Rathynal approaches and the heir should not go gallivanting off to the provinces to bash some lordly heads together. That's what junior princes are for."
Lamps lit the stables ahead where several guardsmen were talking with local Baerlyn men, some of them regular stablehands. Several lads carried heavy blankets, or lugged saddlebags, or shifted loads of hay. The air smelled of hay, manure and horses-to Sasha's nose, a most familiar and agreeable odour, tinged with the sweetness of burning lamp oil.
"It's the Rathynal, isn't it?" Sasha said, arms wrapped about herself, only partly to repress the shivers brought on by the cold air. "That's why everyone's so jumpy."
"There's a lot to be jumpy about," said Kessligh, raising a hand in answer to the horsemen's respectful hails. "Such a large meeting can only reopen old wounds. Especially with foreign lowlanders invited. There's war in the offing, Sasha. Us old warhorses can smell it in the air. Damn right we're jumpy. You should be too."