the Verenthanes of Baen-Tar cared for the people of Taneryn?” he snarled, bushy eyebrows and beard seeming to bristle like a great wild animal. “Even now the king calls a great Rathynal, to force his tame Verenthane lords to approve his decision to march to war in the lowlands! A war in the Bacosh, with whom we have no interest whatsoever! A war for Verenthane causes and the profit of lowlands merchants! With such do the Verenthanes of the towns and cities seek to protect their ill-gotten wealth and prestige—with the blood of poor Goeren-yai farmers who have no interest in your foreign causes and false titles!
“Who but me will speak for the Goeren-yai? Who but me is left to speak?” He roared to the assembled men. “It was royal Verenthanes like this one who appointed only Verenthane lords to the provinces! It was they who belittled us, scattered us, patronised and left us to our fates at the hands of Hadryn tyrants! Of all the Udalyn descendants, I am the greatest of rank and the greatest of honour! Who but me will speak for the true, the ancient, the rightful people of Lenayin!”
The roar that followed paled all those previous, a deafening thunder that threatened to split Sasha's ears. There followed the heavy, rhythmic stamping of boots on flagstones, accompanied by the hard clapping of hands. Krayliss surveyed his new commotion, wiping his beard of the spittle that now hung there, residue of his outburst. Pride burned in his eyes, vain and spiteful. This was a man, Sasha saw only too well, who was prepared to die for his cause. No matter how many others he took with him to his pyre.
“Entertaining,” Sasha remarked as they walked from beneath the gates of Halleryn. “Nothing like a bit of open hostility to develop the appetite.”
“I've had worse meals,” Damon muttered, tugging on his riding gloves for warmth.
“When?” Sasha asked, pulling her cloak more firmly about her.
“Anytime someone thinks it a grand idea to get me together with Maryd Banys of Ranash, and her mother.”
Sasha frowned at that. The sound of the wind above the vast, moonless dark of the lake held an eerie power. Yet, for all the frozen chill of the open night, it was a relief indeed to be free of that hall and the dark stares and muttered, suspicious conversation about the long table. “Maryd is the eldest daughter?” she asked.
Damon grunted in reply.
“I've made her acquaintance,” Jaryd remarked helpfully. He'd been attempting to appear untroubled all night but, to Sasha's eye, he looked unsettled. For a young man previously uninterested in the lordly affairs of Lenayin, such encounters were surely a lot to digest. “She's very pretty, think you not, Prince Damon?”
“Aye, she's pretty,” Damon muttered. “The wits of a chicken and the charm of a leech, but she's pretty. Dinner with Krayliss was a pleasant affair compared to that.” Sasha shot Kessligh a glance and could have sworn she saw him smile.
“So Father wishes you to marry a Ranash girl?” Sasha questioned further, with considerable distaste. “A northerner?”
“Koenyg's idea,” Damon said, gazing off across the dark lake as the road approached the shore.
“Two northern sisters-in-law,” Sasha said with displeasure. “I'm not sure I could stand it. Wyna Telgar is enough.”
“Poor girl,” Damon retorted. “You wouldn't have to share her bed for the rest of your life, you've nothing to complain about.”
“I think we must be talking of two different Maryd Banyses,” Jaryd said quizzically. “The girl I mean is sweet-faced, black-haired with blue eyes and a full bosom…”
“And what interesting topics have you discussed with her, Master Jaryd?” Damon asked. “Have you spent more than a heartbeat in her presence? Or merely admired her bosom from afar?”
“It's a very nice bosom, Your Highness.”
“Master Jaryd never met a bosom with which he couldn't hold a conversation,” said Sasha with a sideways glance.
Jaryd grinned. “Yours is disappointingly quiet.”
“You just haven't asked it the right questions.” Jaryd laughed. “These treaties of marriage are ludicrous,” Sasha continued. “Ranash will obey the throne simply because their lord's daughter shares a prince's bed? Hadryn's behaviour has barely changed since Koenyg married Wyna…and little Dany now gives them a Hadryn in the line of succession.”
“The other lords will not be happy if I marry another northern girl,” said Damon. Her brother's eyes were joyless in the wind-blown torchlight. Damon the petulant, he'd been called before. Lately, however, he'd been Damon the grim. “This line of princes was going to be a rich