devoted twelve years of his life to her. But now, he asked for things from her that she did not know if she was prepared to give. “Yes,” she said quietly.
Jaegar shrugged, broadly. “We are Goeren-yai, Sasha. We believe in following a path. Your path is with the Nasi-Keth. Perhaps you should go with your uman.”
Sasha stared at him. “And abandon the Goeren-yai?”
“Are you our saviour?” Jaegar asked, with an eyebrow raised.
Sasha blinked. “I never said…I mean, I never thought…”
“Then why stay?”
“You don't want me to?” A lump threatened to grow in her throat.
Jaegar sighed. “It's not about what I want, Sasha. I am headman. I am also umchyl, the spirit talker. I help to find the path desired by the spirits. Especially in the young in the Wakening ceremony and beyond. The path does not care what I want. The path is yours, and only you can decide if you shall take it.”
“I care!” Sasha protested. “If you don't think I can help, if you don't think I'll bring any more than just trouble, then I'll leave! I don't want to bring those bastards down on Baerlyn again, I just wish someone would…would have the balls to tell me…to tell me…” She gave up in exasperation and turned to leave before the building desperate emotion escaped her control.
Teriyan caught her arm, hard. “I'll tell you,” he said firmly. “I don't claim to be some spirit-talking wise man like my friend here…” Jaegar smiled, faintly. “But I think you should stay. This, this nonsense…” he waved a hand toward the disorganised rabble of Cryliss warriors across the upper slopes, “…it's been coming for a hundred years. No offence to your great-grandfather, Sasha, but let's be honest—King Soros was raised a Torovan, he'd barely known Lenayin. He did a great thing ridding us of the Cherrovan, but he had no real idea what to do with Lenayin itself except to try and remake it in the image of the lowlands.
“So he turns all his most loyal chieftains and clans into noble families as reward for service, but only then discovers the Goeren-yai and the villages won't stand for it, so he waters down the nobles’ powers to avoid civil war. The nobility bought it then because it seemed better than nothing, and they thought they'd try to increase their powers by stealth…but a century later and they're growing impatient. King Soros promised them they'd be full-fledged noble lords like in the Bacosh, not limp-dick puppets.
“We can't let them win, Sasha. You matter to the Goeren-yai. Damn it, Kumaryn's right to worry about you, far more than he is to worry about that buffoon Krayliss. Of all the royal children of Baen-Tar, you're the first who truly loved the Goeren-yai. It means a lot to people, Sasha.”
“The second,” Sasha said quietly. “Krystoff loved the Goeren-yai too.”
“Aye, that he did,” Teriyan agreed. “But Prince Krystoff lived in Baen-Tar and only knew us as soldiers he served with and servant girls working in the palace. You live here. The spirits are bound to the land, Sasha. They live in the rocks in the hills, and the trees of the forest, and the dirt beneath your feet. You're the first of all Lenay royalty to be here, and to feel it. I'm not itching to lead some damn rebellion, Sasha…but damn it, you know what the stakes are in this. We need all the help we can get. And if men get desperate enough that Krayliss looks like the only alternative…then spirits save us.”
Tears prickled in Sasha's eyes. She took a deep breath, pig-smelling air and all. “Thank you,” she said. “I'll help. I have to talk to my father. Once upon a time, men say he used to listen to reason. Perhaps he still will.”
“That damn Archbishop Dalryn jerks your father's strings now,” Tarynt muttered. “Him and your big brother Koenyg.”
“Then we'll just have to see what we can do about that,” Sasha replied, with firming resolve. “Shan't we?”
SOFY STOOD AT THE EDGE of the stable's mustering yard, watching the milling chaos of horses and soldiers in the blazing torchlight, as frenzied shadows splashed across neighbouring buildings and the towering inner stone wall of Baen-Tar City. Anyse was at her side, trying to hold a spare cloak over her princess's head and ward off the light, chill rain. Sofy recognised Damon, surrounded by Royal Guardsmen, their gold and red distinct amidst the green of the Falcon Guard.
As he dismounted, stablehands rushing to take his