Sasha

"Please come, I'll explain on the way." And he leaned closer to whisper in her ear. "It concerns the Udalyn, M'Lady."

Sasha stared at him. Then she got up and blew out her lamp. She followed Jaryd between the tables, ignoring the cloaked, hooded stares of men at their tables.

Outside in the cold night, it was only a short walk to the stables. Torches gave the road a dim, patchy light, with the odd, passing shadow of another walker.

"M'Lady," said Jaryd, "I looked all over! Why were you not at the Rathynal feast with everyone else?"

"To avoid "everyone else"," Sasha said shortly. "They'd have made me wear a dress, for one thing."

Jaryd gave her a bemused look. "Would that be so terrible?"

"Would you wear one?" Sasha retorted. Jaryd blinked. "There you are. Should you even be walking around?"

"It's my arm that's broken, M'Lady, not my leg," Jaryd said testily. "I dislike sitting still."

"I felt the same, once. Then I discovered books."

Jaryd made a face. "Books are no friends of mine. Princess Sofy was missing you," he added. "She fears you're avoiding her."

That hurt. Sasha gazed at the lighted windows of a streetside building, biting her lip. She saw so little of Sofy. But… "I'm not avoiding her, I'm avoiding her new friends. I don't want to kill any of them. Or rather, I think I do want to kill some of them. But not in front of Sofy."

"You have my sympathies there," Jaryd said darkly. "That lot need a good belting. But the ladies love them."

"It's difficult enough to defend your gender, most of the time," Sasha told him wryly. "I'll not even try to defend mine. What's your urgency?"

"There is a rumour of refugees," said Jaryd in a low voice, with a cautious glance about the gloomy street.

Sasha stared at him. "Refugees from the valley? How has word come?"

"We don't know, M'Lady. We think they were seen upon the road. It seems a messenger was sent to Prince Koenyg at speed and now he has deployed men of Ranash and Banneryd upon the Baen-Tar perimeter this night."

"And now he sends loyal Verenthanes out to intercept," Sasha muttered. "You said 'we.' Is Damon…?"

"Prince Damon has quietly asked some of the Falcon Guard, M'Lady," Jaryd murmured. "We feel we might find the refugees first if they arrive tonight, yet Prince Damon is required at the feast, and the usual routes through which one might move a person undetected into the city are watched by Prince Koenyg's spies…"

"Damon intends to smuggle a Udalyn into the city?" Damon, undermining Koenyg's authority beneath his very nose? She was amazed. "To what purpose?"

"M'Lady, Prince Damon wonders if the king is aware of all that transpires. He says… he says that while the king is in agreement with these policies in principle, he does not follow their implementation in detail.

"Prince Koenyg has done this before, M'Lady… two years ago, you might recall that a Goeren-yai village in Yethulyn fell beneath the thrall of a headman who proclaimed himself possessed by a great spirit and declared his village an independent kingdom."

"Father sent Koenyg, and Koenyg had the leaders killed and the entire village burned to the ground," Sasha replied.

"And the king, Prince Damon says, was most displeased to learn of Prince Koenyg's methods," Jaryd added. "He said the execution was just, but to punish the entire village was unnecessary. He sent gold and dispatched tradesmen to help in the rebuilding."

"And Damon thinks father is not aware that Koenyg may be encouraging a Hadryn attack on the Udalyn?"

"M'Lady, the king spends much of his days in temple. He prays and he reads from the holy texts. His directions are broad, Prince Damon says, yet he trusts Prince Koenyg to implement the detail of those orders."

Sasha nodded, thinking hard. The road wound about the armoury and the training hall now. On the right, the great city wall loomed dark and bleak in the night. "He should know," Sasha muttered. "How could he not know?"

"Prince Damon feels that perhaps if the king were presented with a refugee from the Udalyn, an eyewitness who might sway the king's compassion…" Jaryd took a deep breath.

Sasha gave him a hard look. "And why are you doing this? You don't need to help. Spirits, you're in enough trouble already."

"Trouble frightens me no more than it frightens you," Jaryd said stub bornly. Sasha shook her head in faint disbelief. In Lenayin, Goeren-yai men weren't the only ones with rocks for heads.

At the base of the Baen-Tar cliff, Sasha and Jaryd headed left and broke free into the paddocks and low stone walls of the rolling Baen-Tar farmlands. Many men were awake, she saw as they rode between the tents, rough-shaven and sleepy by the flickering light of torches. Here, a small cluster of men talked before an officer's tent. There, a pair of soldiers held six horses saddled and ready in case of sudden need. Sentries stood watch along the road, yet Jaryd took the fore, letting the front of his cloak fall open to reveal the full uniform of the Falcon Guard and mail armour beneath. Spirits knew how long it'd taken him to drag that on, considering his arm. No man challenged them. But something, it seemed, had aroused the soldiers.

Sasha took the first available right-hand turn, attempting to gain some sense of the placement of units. Here in the mid-slope, the soldiers seemed mostly from Yethulyn and Fyden provinces. Nearer to the town, it had been Valhanan. Now, as they rode a winding farmtrail downslope, the tents appeared largely of southern Isfayen. Jaryd pointed further downslope still, where a cluster of tents sat lonely within an isolated field, flanked by several large trees and neighbouring cottages. The camp was alive with the light of fires.

"I see Lord Krayliss is awake," Jaryd said. "Doubtless gnashing his teeth over not being invited to the Rathynal feast."

"Aye," Sasha said wearily. "Another chance to make trouble missed. The tragedy is that he and Usyn deserved each other. It should have been him and Usyn in that circle before the walls, winner takes all. Instead, we've only dragged the problem down here to infect Baen-Tar and leave the Udalyn undefended."

Jaryd took a torch from his saddle webbing, and they both paused while he gave it one-handed to Sasha to light with a metal flint. The night seemed all too silent, here on the lower slopes, away from the noise of men and horses in camp. Ahead, there was rough land and forest. Not a place to ride at night if one could avoid it.

At the bottom of the hill, the forest surrounded them. Sasha held the torch high and the light danced upon the trees, casting crazy shadows across the undergrowth. Once, Sasha fancied she saw a gleam of eyes from a branch-an owl, most likely. The trail climbed and fell across rocky folds, yet Jaryd seemed sure of the way. When the trail divided, he took the less-travelled route, bushes thrashing against their horses' legs.

Then, ahead, there came a new light through the trees. Two, in fact. Jaryd saw, and reined to a halt. Peg fretted, ears flicking in the cold as riders approached. Sasha counted five horses… and a smaller pony, trailing behind on a halter. Jaryd called in a tongue Sasha did not recognise and received a like reply. And then, in the brightening light of three torches, she could see the green of Tyree beneath the riders' cloaks.

"My Lord," greeted a rider. Beneath the hood, Sasha recognised Sergeant Garys. He peered within the shadow of her own hood… and his eyes widened a little. Garys half-bowed in the saddle. "M'Lady Sashandra. Two Udalyn, M'Lady. One of Jurellyn's scouts has escorted them this far but turned back as soon as he handed them over. Said he had to get back to Jurellyn."

Only then did Sasha see the small cloaked figure astride the saddle of another man, his shape lost against the soldier's bulk and shadow. A young face peered from within the hood, fearful. Now she understood where the pony had come from.

"Damn," she muttered, nudging Peg alongside Sergeant Garys. She handed him both rein and torch, and climbed down, giving Peg a reassuring stroke on the nose lest he yank the sergeant from his saddle. Then she walked briskly to the other soldier's side and threw back her hood. She reached up to put a hand on the child's arm. A boy, she saw, looking exhausted and dirty besides the fear. But he seemed to know how to sit on a saddle. If he'd come all the way from the Udalyn Valley, he must surely know. "Lad," she said gently. "Friend. Do not be frightened. These are good men. Where are you from?"