“Aye,” said Teriyan, “it's the grand crusade to civilise Lenayin. First it's the lowlands gods, then it's land-owning lords, peasants and feuding armies, and soon one day no one will remember what it ever meant to be Goeren-yai and free.” Teriyan was always the educated one, Sasha reflected. The one who knew far more than his wisecracks and bragging let on.
“Over my dead body,” Jaegar said simply.
“All of theirs too,” Teriyan agreed.
“Did you kill this…this lieutenant person?” Tarynt asked Sasha curiously. The men of Yule had rushed to help at a moment's notice. Evidently they had not heard all the circumstances when they came.
“Lieutenant Reynan?” said Sasha. “No. It was Jaryd Nyvar. Reynan was trying to kill me from behind. Jaryd saved my life.”
“Nyvar!” Tarynt pursed his lips into a whistle. Even village Goeren-yai knew and respected that name. Tournaments were not combat…but then, it was far more to respect a man for success in tournaments than success in titles or wealth. “Spirits, that's a mess. Isn't he a relation, or…?”
“Of Reynan, aye,” said Jaegar, nodding. “No doubt some quick wit saw a chance to pin it on Sasha before anyone could say otherwise. Perhaps they reckon Jaryd will comply and deny it was him.”
“Aye, his papa will twist his arm to that,” Teriyan agreed.
“They lack numbers, but the lordly classes make up for it in unity,” Kessligh said grimly. “Goeren-yai disunity, now, they're relying on. Why aren't Sedyn or Dayen villages here? They're closer than Yule.”
“Small matter of ancient bloodfeud with Sedyn,” said Jaegar uncomfortably, glancing over his shoulder. The Cryliss column appeared to be forming a line on the upper slopes near the trees, but there was nothing of orderliness about it. “Dayen…well, they're nearer Cryliss than we are. Plenty of folk make good money from the wealthy families, don't want to upset them much.”
“Makes sense,” Tarynt said cheerfully. “Us in Yule, we've not a bean between us!” He cackled.
Kessligh, Sasha saw, was looking straight at her. She knew that look. “What?” she bristled.
“They want you dead, Sasha,” he said flatly. “They need the Goeren-yai divided, as Goeren-yai always are. They want to make Lenayin into a model of lowlands civilisation, with vastly increased powers, lands and wealth for themselves. To do that, they wish all obstacles removed. They think Lord Krayliss might unify the Goeren-yai, so they want him dead. And now there's you, with all the rumours…”
“Bugger the rumours!” Sasha said hotly. “I'm not doing anything! I'm just…here!”
“Exactly. They'd like you elsewhere.”
“And you'd oblige them?” she asked incredulously. “Send me running off to Petrodor with you like a coward because some fancy-dress noble threatened me?”
Jaegar and Tarynt looked uncomfortable, as in the manner of men who'd stumbled into a private family spat. Teriyan watched curiously.
“No,” Kessligh said tightly, with as dark a scowl as Sasha had ever seen. “The choice is yours. It's always been yours. Go get yourself killed, I won't stop you.” He strode and leaped into Terjellyn's saddle, spurring his way through the Baerlyn line and up the road in the wake of the retreating column.
“He's impossible,” Sasha muttered, hands on hips.
Teriyan opened his mouth to remark, but Jaegar cut him off. “He's right about it being dangerous for you, Sasha. With a war coming, the Verenthanes think their time has come. Your father might wish to protect you, but no power in Lenayin is absolute—it's a great balancing act—and if the lords all find you a menace, even King Torvaal can't protect you. Today is just the first strike of many.”
All because the stupid Larosa in far-away Bacosh couldn't stand to live side by side with the serrin. A dull panic settled in Sasha's gut. It wasn't fair. Baerlyn was her home. It scared her, all this talk of leaving. She looked at Jaegar desperately. At Teriyan, taller, and with a concerned frown.
“What do you think I should do?” she asked them.
Jaegar sighed and scratched at his scalp. “I can only really give you counsel where the affairs of Baerlyn are concerned, Sasha. It's not my place to be giving instructions to the king's daughter…”
“I'm not asking for instructions, damn it! Just…” she turned away in exasperation, “just a little advice! I can't ask Kessligh, he's stubborn as a mule for all the Nasi-Keth's talk of open-mindedness—he either tells me what I don't want to hear, or tells me an uman can't dictate the uma's path.”
“You are Nasi-Keth, aren't you?” Jaegar asked.
Sasha felt uncertain. She shouldn't, she knew. Kessligh had