kindness laced with desperation, “the soldiers are moving. Please move back or you'll be trampled.” She leaned down to grasp the woman's hand, gently. The return grasp was hard, work-hardened fingers clutching like claws.
“I know you, Synnich-ahn,” said the woman, in hoarse, broken Lenay. Her eyes were bloodshot red and her earrings were curling, metal spirals that might denote a spirit talker. Unusual, for a woman. Sasha stared, as her heart skipped a beat. “The line is unbroken, Synnich-ahn. What was once the father's shall pass to the daughter. The time has come.”
The woman moved back with the others, as horses jostled past and large portions of the column broke in different directions, spilling through the shattered gates into broad fields to the left and right. Kessligh took off downslope and Sasha followed, galloping along the winding trail until there was another gate in the left wall, and they turned sharply through it. The open field stretched before them, sloping rightwards, as Sergeant Garys's contingent ran along the upper slope to their left. Kessligh allowed Sasha to pull alongside at a gentle canter, sword out.
He pointed his sword, indicating the vast sweep of hillside before them. “What do you see?”
“No space for a wide line,” Sasha replied, standing half upright in the stirrups for a better look, the wind tossing at her tri-braid. “Best to keep them in small groups, perhaps five apiece, following two routes of approach.”
“Why not more?” Kessligh asked, voice raised above the thunder of hooves.
“There are only so many good approaches through broken terrain. Also ambush spots are limited on the way in, we only need so many vantage points.”
Kessligh nodded. “Also, see the way the paddock walls follow the contours of the land?” He swept his sword across a forward arc…and Sasha noticed that indeed, the stone walls did hold to the higher ridges and climbed the steeper folds at right angles. Which was one of those things that Kessligh called the difference between knowledge and wisdom—of course she'd always known the farmers constructed their walls as such, she'd simply never thought of the military implications. Most wisdom, Kessligh insisted, was comprised of things that most people already knew, but simply hadn't understood in all its implications. “Trust the farmers, they know the land better than we. Follow the walls, use them as a guide to the land. And see this shallow depression downslope? If we follow it further leftwards instead of the direct route to town, we'll have cover for longer and gain some surprise.”
“Might they already have seen us?” Sasha asked.
“Perhaps…but I suspect they'll be watching north for Taneryn reinforcements, not south. These are Hadryn villagers, I'm moderately sure, not company soldiers.”
A low stone wall approached, Peg and Terjellyn jumping it comfortably. “You think they've claimed this land for Hadryn?” Sasha asked.
“I think they've been awaiting an opportunity for a long time,” Kessligh said darkly. “As for what they've actually proclaimed…we'll know when we're down there.”
“Who's in charge now with Lord Rashyd dead? Usyn?” Kessligh nodded. Usyn Telgar was heir to the Hadryn Great Lordship and not much older than herself. “You think Usyn ordered this?”
“I think he'll deny it. But so much in the Hadryn–Taneryn conflict just happens by mutual consent of all involved.”
Leftwards, Sergeant Garys's contingent of perhaps thirty horse came to a halt upon an open, sloping field and began forming up. Sasha and Kessligh reined upslope, angling past a broad shelf of dark rock that thrust from the green field, forming a minor cliff below which numerous sheep were grazing.
“Back there,” said Kessligh. “That woman called you the Synnich.”
“It was Synnich-ahn,” Sasha corrected. “Across all the northern tongues, the “ahn” infers a guide.”
“They used to call me that.”
“They still do. But I'm your uma. It seems it's fallen to me.”
Kessligh looked displeased. “You shouldn't fool around with prophecies, Sasha. This kind of superstitious nonsense can get you into deep trouble.”
Sasha stared at him, aghast. “How is this my fault? What possible say can I have over what people may choose to believe?”
“You've become a symbol to the Goeren-yai, Sasha. You of all people should know how long they've wished for a royal Goeren-yai—”
“I'm Nasi-Keth, I can't speak for them!” Sasha cut him off, angrily.
“And as Nasi-Keth,” Kessligh replied, “you should remember that you are bound to the Nasi-Keth as much as to anyone in Lenayin.”
Sasha snorted in disbelief. “Why is it that as soon as anyone important says anything nice to the Goeren-yai, all the Verenthanes are up in