“Even if true, it proves nothing!” retorted another man, from the far side of the long table. “The spirits are not guides for women! They never have been!”
“Spirits alone were never mentioned,” said another, low and soft, as if fearing the presence of unspoken, unseen power. “Only the Synnich was mentioned.”
There was about the room another flurry of spirit signs and the muttering of oaths. In some faces now, there was real fear. Krayliss surveyed the commotion with a dark, furrowed stare.
“I don't believe her!” pronounced another. “The men of Hadryn are bastards, yet their swordsmanship is unquestioned! Perhaps only the smallest handful of men could defeat so many! No woman has such skill with a blade to take four in the manner described! Only a woman of Saalshen could manage such a feat, and a great one at that!”
“Exactly!” retorted another. “A serrin woman could manage such a feat because the serrin walk with the spirits!”
An uproar followed, men shouting argument and counterargument at close, heated range. In several quarters, pushing broke out, quickly separated by cooler heads before it could escalate. To Sasha's left, Damon was staring about in disbelief. To her right, Kessligh simply folded his arms and waited, as many times he had waited for a much younger Sashandra Lenayin to cease her raging tempers before insisting just as firmly upon the very thing that had caused them. Sasha simply watched Lord Krayliss, unafraid now of meeting his gaze. Krayliss stared back, unmoved within the commotion.
Perhaps he expected her gaze to drop. Anger burned in Sasha's stare. A warning, when the others were not looking. And it was Krayliss's eyes that widened, in surprise and anger, from the power of that meeting.
“Enough!” he yelled, a broad fist held high, and the clamour eased as quickly as it had begun. “Such debates should wait for a later hour,” he said darkly. “We have other business to attend to. Prince Damon rides to serve the justice of Baen-Tar. Little enough hope do we of the Goeren-yai have in the justice of Verenthane kings…”
It was said with great sarcasm and brought a harsh laugh from many of those surrounding.
“He comes to us with a mind full of questions!” Krayliss announced, in louder, defiantly jovial tones. “He wishes to know the cause of our old friend Lord Rashyd's death, and the reason his son stands upon our gate with his blade in the turf, stamping his little temper tantrum now that papa is no longer about to spank his skinny backside!”
Another laugh from the men and some mugs were raised in salute. Krayliss turned to Damon with defiant confidence. “Yes, I slew Lord Rashyd! His priests came to harass the Gessyl townsfolk and I rode to see them off! Rashyd crossed our border uninvited and confronted us! He spurred his horse against my people and I slew him for his insolence! And what, Prince of Lenayin, shall you do about it?”
“Take you to Baen-Tar for a judgment at the king's pleasure,” Damon replied. Sasha blinked at Damon, unable to believe she'd heard such a decisive statement, so coolly delivered, in the face of such defiance. For a moment, the entire hall seemed hushed with similar surprise.
Krayliss threw back his head and laughed. “The young prince has some balls after all!” he roared, to an eruption of laughter that shook the ceiling. “And how do you propose to achieve this monumental feat, young Lenayin?”
“I shall await the arrival of my line companies,” Damon said icily, “and we shall join forces with the Hadryn. Should you refuse to comply with my order, we shall kill you all.”
Another silence followed. Sasha's stomach tried rapidly to tie itself in knots, to her great displeasure. There was a fine line, where most men of her experience were concerned, between balls and stupidity. Only Kessligh could be reliably expected to find that precarious balance with consistency.
“My father's law is quite clear,” Damon continued. “Lord Rashyd deserved a censure for his conduct. He did not deserve death. Your punishment can only be decided by the king himself, upon a full presentation of the facts. My task, I see now, is to take you there within the custody of the crown. Should you refuse, your life is forfeit. I therefore suggest, Lord of Taneryn, that you do not refuse. For the sake of your people.”
Lord Krayliss's already vast girth seemed to swell even larger with rage. “And from what time have