at Perys, Sasha knew. She drew the blade clear, leaving the soldier with the scabbard, and stepped into the circle.
The yells, horns and drumbeats faded, then ceased completely. Once again, silence ruled the valley. That abrupt transition gave Sasha a worse chill than the last, and her breathing threatened to quicken as her heart skipped a beat. Focus, she reprimanded herself, testing the feel of the blade in one, thin-gloved hand. Do not think. Be.
Behind and in front, men of both parties moved about the circle, finding space for a clear vantage. One of them, in flowing black robes, stepped into the circle and walked to the centre. A priest, Sasha registered. Of course the armies of Hadryn would bring their holy men with them. Reaching the centre, he produced a small book and began reading. Across the northern side of the circle, men bowed their heads in prayer. Some of the southern side did also.
The priest completed his incantation and holy signs were made upon heart and lips. The silver-haired man who had taken Farys's cloak met her gaze by chance and smiled a smug, contemptuous little smile. These were the men who killed Krystoff. The hatred flared, a rising sea of molten fire. Focus, she forced herself with effort. Anger can work for you. Don't drown in it.
The priest walked to Farys, who sank to one knee, the sword held pointdown before him. The priest blessed him with obvious reverence. Then turned in a swirl of black robes and considered Sasha darkly as Farys rose at his back. Dark smiles spread across the gathering behind to see the priest's manner. Then he walked toward her. But Sasha did not kneel.
“Child, do not be foolish!” the priest whispered in harsh temper as an angry murmur spread across the circle's northern side. “You must make your peace with the gods, for your father's sake!”
Sasha met his stare with an intensity that made the priest's eyes widen. And he blessed himself in recoiling reflex. “Why?” she asked him. “I won't be the one meeting them today.”
The priest blessed her hurriedly as she remained standing, then departed in haste. The silver-haired man then stepped into the circle as angry ripples continued amongst the Hadryn. “Let the record state,” he cried to all those watching, “that Master Farys Varan, son of Lord Udys Varan, has been challenged to this duel by the uma of Kessligh Cronenverdt! Let it also state that this challenge was only accepted following the most grievous provocation and insult to Master Farys's honour! The uma of Kessligh Cronenverdt presumes to wield the authority of a man! If a man she thinks herself to be, then let her be treated as one!”
The silver-haired man glared proudly across all gathered. Then, with a spiteful, final stare at Sasha, he turned and departed. Farys advanced, proud in his stride, broad shoulders set. Imparting upon the occasion all the honour and dignity he could muster for the ritual slaying of an impetuous girl. But he would do this all the same, for the purposes of his masters, who had surely put him up to it. Kill the Goeren-yai princess. Discredit the hated Kessligh Cronenverdt. Show the pagan fools the sum total of all their hopes and prophecies. And show to all Lenayin that the tales of serrin martial prowess were nothing more than superstitious fables, to pave the way for the holy war to come.
Sasha found that she could not move. Her booted feet remained anchored, her previous calm slipping as the blood began to pound in her ears. She would kill this man to suit her purposes. He was ignorant. He did not know what he faced. Suddenly, she saw before her not a hated northerner, a peddler of spite and bigotry, but just a man, the same as any other. He had a father and a mother, and more family besides. He seemed to have perhaps thirty summers, and so probably he had a wife and children, also. Surely there were many who loved him. She had killed men before in battle, who were trying to kill her at the time. This was…something completely different.
Krystoff's coffin, open before the altar of the Saint Ambellion Temple. She had worn a white dress and held a white lily in her hands. Remembered numbness. A black, all-encompassing grief. She had wanted the service to be grand, to do justice to the great, gaping void that had opened in her world. To do justice to