murdered as they lay…”
“We did no such thing!” the Taneryn shot back, eyes hard with fury. “We gathered the wounded and are tending to them with the best of our care, as the customs dictate. Should the invaders decide to withdraw their presence, we shall return those men to their comrades.”
“The men of Hadryn shall tolerate no hostage threats!”
“Enough!” Damon barked. The two men subsided to a simmering, furious silence. The Hadryn was well armoured, armed and elegantly presented astride his huge lowlands charger; whilst the Taneryn was a roughened, rural image in long braids, tattered skins and leathers astride his wiry, half-breed dussieh pony. It turned Sasha's blood cold to see them as such, these two halves of Lenayin, Verenthane and Goeren-yai, with such murderous hatred between them. Pray that it did not spread. Pray to the gods or spirits; whoever would listen.
“My Prince,” said the Hadryn, after a lingering, boiling silence. “At least, if we are not granted a truce, if your own men could retrieve our fallen comrades? It should not befit anyone's honour to leave them lying here.”
“The soldiers of Baen-Tar,” Damon said coldly, “are not here to sweep up after your conflicts.” The Hadryn man paled in silent anger. “Soldier,” Damon continued, turning his gaze upon the Taneryn, “upon my request, will you grant a truce for this purpose?”
The Taneryn thought about it for a moment. There was a command in Damon's tone that Sasha had never heard before. A newfound confidence?
No. More likely simple fury, Sasha thought. It seemed to affect the Taneryn, for he nodded. “No more than five horses may come,” he said.
“Upon your honour,” Damon insisted.
“Upon my honour, we shall not fire.”
“Go,” said Damon, “carry the message. We shall ride to Halleryn.”
“My Prince,” protested the Taneryn, “if you would ride the back route along our side of the lake, we can offer you a safe journey to Halleryn…”
“I shall talk with the new Great Lord of Hadryn first,” Damon said firmly. “He is the one claiming grievance, after all. Have no fear, I shall interview Lord Krayliss in his turn. You are both dismissed.”
The two men bowed low in their saddles, then reined their mounts about and set off galloping toward their respective camps. The forward guard reformed ahead and Damon pressed after them. Kessligh held to Damon's side and Sasha took the opportunity to move abreast herself and listen to their conversation, above the clustered noise of hooves, jangling harnesses and equipment.
“Well done,” Kessligh said simply, and Sasha could hear real approval in his voice. From Kessligh, that was rare. Damon seemed to ride a little taller in the saddle, but his expression remained dark.
“I hate these fools,” he muttered in reply. “Gods how I hate them, Verenthane and Goeren-yai alike. So ready to split each other's skulls with their petty squabbling. I've half a mind to let them at it.”
“In such conflicts,” Kessligh said calmly, “it's always the villagers that suffer most.”
Damon let out a sharp breath. “I know. I'm just…angry.” He shook his head, as if to clear it, and gazed out upon the lake. The mountains on the far side made a perfect reflection on the water and it seemed to calm his nerves. “So we shall have at it with young Usyn. I hear he's as much a pain as his father. Sofy says she'd heard he once challenged a courtier to an honour duel for making fun of a new shirt he'd worn. The courtier was found hanging in his bedchambers the following morning, too frightened to partake. Apparently his swordsmanship was nothing close to Usyn's, and everyone knew it.”
“It's well known they don't fight fair in Hadryn,” Sasha remarked sourly.
“Oh aye,” remarked Captain Tyrun from the far side of their four-abreast line, “he's a wonderful young fellow, Usyn. Brash, vain and immature. To be expected, if you knew his father.”
“But not stupid,” Kessligh said calmly, “never think that. His father was smart as all hells.”
“What do you suggest, Yuan Kessligh?” Damon asked.
“I have no suggestions,” Kessligh said mildly. “I have every confidence in you, my Prince.”
And Damon, Sasha noticed, seemed most unhappy with that vote of confidence.
They rode past the Hadryn lines as preparations were being made to send five riders back to Vassyl for bodies. There were some light tents erected and some heavy skins unfurled on the ground for men to sleep under. Perhaps a hundred men, Sasha reckoned—not enough against the several score archers Vassyl looked to have. Probably Usyn Telgar