people would lose far more than just their honour because of decisions she would make now, or tomorrow, or in the days after that.
The stables were less active than on previous occasions, yet still busy enough for cover. “Be fast,” Teriyan said in a low voice to the group, “word will reach Koenyg soon enough, the executions will only distract him for so long.”
Sasha saddled fast and rejoined the group in front of the stables. As they approached the guards at the main gate, Soros Square became visible. Great fires lit the four corners about a large, raised platform, swarmed about by as large a mass of people Sasha could ever recall having seen. Light and shadow flung far and wide across the grand arches and towers of surrounding buildings, and the jagged lines of pikemen's ceremonial staffs made a sharp, teethlike row against the glare of flame.
About the crowd's perimeter there were many soldiers, and even more upon the platform itself. Before the platform, there was raised a large Verenthane star on a tall pole. It loomed over proceedings like a watchful guardian, invoking the name of its gods upon all that occurred within its shadow. The symbolism both chilled her and filled her with exasperated rage. Koenyg had no clue. Perhaps Lord Krayliss did deserve this fate, and perhaps the majority of Goeren-yai would not grieve for him. But to take his head beneath the shadow of a Verenthane star? One could not have conceived a greater provocation if one's intention was to start a rebellion.
“Identify yourselves!” called a guard from the gate, evidently a little bored with his job and far more interested in the spectacle upon the square. The crowd on the platform was clearing now and the drums increased their pace. Of the victims, Sasha's vantage did not provide a good view.
“I know them,” said another guard as the column arrived. “Let them through.” A Goeren-yai man, Sasha saw as Peg sensed her tension and danced sideways a little.
“Hells no!” demanded the first man with typical Lenay bluntness. “Identity of all present, then pass!”
“I said I know them!” countered the Goeren-yai as his comrade turned to stare at him in amazement. The protocols were well known.
“Are you completely bloody stupid, y'daft Valhanan goose?”
“My name's Blossom,” Teriyan said, all hard-faced aggression. “And so's my comrades’.”
“Aye,” said the next man, “mine too.”
“And mine.”
Horses jostled the guard, who stared around in amazement. Some of his comrades came over, heavily armed, yet not overly alarmed. There were at least twenty—Rayen men this night, of the Black Hammers company, not Falcon Guard, or it would have been just too damn easy. The first guard looked as though he suspected some kind of joke. All Lenay men loved jokes, particularly those that made another man look stupid.
“Oh aye, Blossom and Blossom…” he nodded up at them. “Suits you both, I must say. Would someone tell me what the bloody hells is going on?”
“Listen you,” Teriyan told him gruffly, “we got a Goeren-yai lord getting axed on the stage yonder, I suggest you don't give us any crap just now, understand?”
“Aye,” the guard said, suddenly all sober seriousness. “Aye, I hear you, friend. I don't like it much myself, but I've a job to do, don't I?”
“Aye,” Teriyan said bitterly. “Jolly Prince Koenyg did a fair job on us today too, didn't he? You take your damn job, and stick it up your arse. We're leaving.”
He slammed heels to his horse's sides, the other men following, then Sasha and Andreyis racing after as the guards swore, reached for weapons, yelled in protest…and yet did nothing to stop them. Then they were running at a canter along the paved road toward the Baen-Tar cliff, Sasha praying that there would be no whistle of arrowfire from the ramparts in pursuit as guards yelled that instruction up from the ground. None came and the group slowed as they approached the sharp drop-off and the view of hillside lights below.
It had been a masterful performance by Teriyan, Sasha realised as they descended. He had played the disgruntled, hot-headed Goeren-yai warrior to the hilt…and in truth, it had probably taken very little acting. Even a Verenthane guard had reason to agree that such a Goeren-yai hothead might be justifiably unhappy. In Lenayin, it was unwise to stand between a man who felt his honour slighted, and where he wished to go. Even more, such righteous furies were respected, as were the men who wielded them…so long as