Petrodor: A Trial of Blood and Steel, Book 2 (44 page)

Taking a young wolf on a leash for a run was not as simple as Sasha had thought. Tashyna reacted to
everything
, sometimes with fear and, at other times, with uncontainable excitement. She leaped from one side of the alley to the other, avoiding strange-looking people who stared, then bounding toward doorways from which wafted interesting food smells. Her ears would prick pleasantly upon the sight of children, tail raised, her whole posture alert and positive. And then she would halt, go sideways, or retreat at the sight of a man with a sword at his hip. Then Sasha would have to halt and yank her onward, and say reassuring words while she growled and slunk past the man in question…who usually pressed himself against the opposite wall for good measure. Thankfully most men with hip-worn swords were sailors who rarely ventured far from the docks.

Running up the incline paths and stairs was also a challenge, as Tashyna tried to bound up four steps at a time, only to be yanked short and entangle Sasha's legs with the leash. Worse yet, several times on the incline they encountered stray dogs. At the first one, Tashyna nearly tore Sasha's arms from the sockets…but within five strides, the other animal's nature-given instincts seemed to alert it to the fact that this was no big dog, but in fact a wolf, even though it had surely never seen a wolf before in its life. It ran baying with terror. Tashyna looked a little crestfallen.

Sasha laughed. “Don't worry,” she said. “You're not missing much.”

By the time Sasha ran her final leg along the dockfront, Tashyna didn't seem particularly tired. Instead, she leaped and snapped at the leash as Sasha laboured along. Surely Tashyna was unfit after so much captivity, spirits forbid she came into good condition, there weren't many Nasi-Keth runners who could keep up. Perhaps they'd have to send her on consecutive runs.

Dockfront crowds stared and pointed as she ran. Some men setting up their market stalls called out, “It's the Lenay wolf girl!”

“She's not mine, she's my sister's!” Sasha called back, cheerfully. And was amused by the thought of the rumours that would now spread along the dockfront of a Lenay warrior princess even bigger and meaner than the first, who befriended wild wolves.

Arranging for an extra supply of meat scraps was not hard—she simply took Tashyna to The Fish Head and said hello to Tongren. Tongren and his three sons greeted Tashyna as though she were a long-lost relative, giving her water, bacon rinds, and bones with scraps from the kitchen, promising better to come.

At a lane off Fishnet Alley, Sasha rapped on a warped old door, then opened it without waiting. A brick lane led through a dark corridor and into a small courtyard surrounded by several floors of old, brick building. Through some window shutters, Sasha could see people moving.

She tied Tashyna's leash to a small tree in the courtyard and gave her a final pat—Tashyna seemed to get the idea, and lay down with a yawn. Remarkable wolf, Sasha thought as she walked to the door. Maybe it
was
possible to train her.

She knocked and entered. Inside a small room was a bed, in which there lay a little girl with light brown hair. There was a paste on her left arm, which rested on the sheet that covered her. She looked flushed as she slept, and the young woman at her bedside wet her forehead with a damp cloth from a basin. At the bedside sat Alythia, holding the girl's good hand. By the end of the bed, Errollyn stood with another woman, whom Sasha recognised as a Nasi-Keth healer. Errollyn was explaining something. His green eyes met Sasha's as he talked.

Sasha put a hand on Alythia's shoulder. “Lyth, Tashyna's just outside,” she said quietly. “Best warn these people there's a wolf in their courtyard.”

“Thanks,” Alythia murmured, her eyes not leaving little Elra's face. The last surviving child of Patachi Halmady…unless Vincen had somehow survived, which didn't seem likely.

Errollyn finished his conversation and hugged her, hard. Sasha hugged him back, and held on for a long, long time. She felt suddenly exhausted, wanting nothing more than to burrow her head against his chest and stay
there forever. Finally Errollyn released her and took her face in his hands to look at her. “The spirits favour you,” he said with a smile. “You make more trouble than a bear in a beehive.”

“Just once in my life,” Sasha murmured tiredly, “I'd like to be compared to something other than wild animals.”

“You don't need to do this, you know,” Errollyn told Sasha as they climbed the lower slope from Dockside. Sasha did not reply. “Yulia made her own choices. You aren't responsible for what happened.”

“I'm not discussing this.” Again the familiar, winding road, its sides cluttered with ramshackle brick buildings.

At the lane that led to Yulia's aunt's residence, Sasha nearly stopped. But she didn't, and walked up to the little side door and rapped. There was no reply. Sasha rapped again. Finally, it opened. Looking out at her was a young girl, perhaps ten.

“Hello Marli,” Sasha said. Her voice was steady, which surprised her. She would push through it, she thought. Like diving into cold water, you pushed through the shock, safe in the knowledge that the sooner you began, the sooner you could climb out and begin drying. “Is your mother home?”

Marli shook her head. “She's out. Making preparations.”

“Preparations?”

“The funeral.” Marli's eyes were lowered.

Sasha took a deep breath. “When is the funeral, Marli?”

“Tomorrow. The rites say within three days.” As if Sasha, a Lenay pagan, might need that explained to her.

“Is it at Angel Bay?” Sasha asked. There were cremation pyres there. In the strict Verenthane faith, bodies had to be buried, but cemetery plots were beyond the means of lower-slope residents and so the lower-slope priests had resurrected cremation.

Marli nodded, sullenly. “You're not welcome,” she muttered. “There's no Nasi-Keth welcome.”

Sasha stared down at the girl. Took a deep breath and tried to retain her composure. “Marli,” she said quietly, “I'm very sorry about what happened to Yulia. It was my fault. I shouldn't have asked her to come. I should have gone on my own.”

Marli met her gaze for the first time, with incredulous eyes. “You admit it?”

“Of course I admit it. Marli, do you understand?” She gazed at the girl hopefully.

Marli stared back, her wide eyes unreadable. “Responsible?”

“Yes, responsible. I'd like to be at the funeral, Marli. I have to be there.”

“Mama wouldn't like it.”

It was a less hostile response than it could have been. Sasha's hopes rose further, desperately. “I know that, Marli. I'm very sorry about that. But I knew Yulia too, and I know she didn't always agree with what her aunt thought. What do
you
think?”

“Me?” Marli blinked. “You actually ask what I think? Yulia's mother is dying, did you know that? She's not just sick, that's what Yulia always told people. She's dying. She was always my favourite aunt, and Yulia was my favourite cousin. We were always friends. I know I shouldn't have been happy that Yulia came to live with us, because she only did it because her mother was dying…but I was happy. I had to take care of the babies. Mama's always toiling, and she doesn't have time. My brother works as staff for a midslope Family. He's a groundsman, I never see him. It's just me here now.

“It
was
me and Yulia. Yulia helped with the babies. She helped Mama cook, and fetch water. She took care of Grandpa when he fell ill and took six months to die, I don't know how we'd have managed without her help. She taught me to read after the Nasi-Keth taught her, even though Mama said I was wasting my time. We played games together. I never played games before Yulia came to stay. I had someone to talk to, for the first time in my life.

“Now she's dead, because you thought she might be useful to your stupid Nasi-Keth games. But that's the way it always is, isn't it? Wealthy folk always use up poor folk like firewood, don't they? And now you come around here, and
demand
that you be allowed to come to the funeral, and say how you want to become even
more
involved with this family…doesn't it even occur to you that you're the
last
person in the whole world we'd like to see right now?”

There were tears running down Marli's cheeks, and an awful, hollow pain in her eyes. Sasha stood rooted to the spot, unable to move. She wanted to run, but her honour would not let her. She wanted to never have come, but her principles had demanded it. Most of all, she wanted to have been smarter than she was, and more sensitive of other people's lives, and to never have asked Yulia to come with her to the Cliff of the Dead. But she had, and all the wishing in the world would not change it.

“Marli, I'm so sorry,” she whispered. “I want to help, Marli. Please, let me help.”

“You murdered my best friend in the whole world!” Marli sobbed. “We don't need your help! Don't you
ever
come back here! I hope you burn in hell!”

She slammed the door. Sasha stood, stunned. She could not think, or speak. The situation demanded something, but she had no idea what that was.

It was Errollyn who finally put a hand on her back, and steered her away from the doorway and off down the lane away from the road. She had no idea why they were going that way, which was the longer way, but she walked regardless.

“Well,” she managed to say, past the thickness in her throat, “I suppose that couldn't possibly have gone any worse.” She tried a hoarse laugh, but that sounded stupid and callous. For a brief, horrible moment, she hated herself. It was the first time in her life she'd ever felt that way. She wondered how Errollyn could possibly stand her company.

Errollyn said nothing, continuing to steer her with a hand on her back. They'd rounded a narrow bend in the lane when the tears finally escaped her control. Now she realised why Errollyn had steered her down the lane. Here, she had privacy. She collapsed into his arms and sobbed as though her heart were being torn in two. Errollyn held her.

It was still only midmorning when Sasha and Errollyn arrived back at the Velo residence, and already there were crowds gathering. She counted perhaps three hundred people clustered across the dock, blocking the path of frustrated passers-by. Stall owners were shouting at them, waving their arms, trying to clear a space for their business. Cart drivers pushed through regardless, horses or donkeys skittish amidst the clustered bodies.

Mari wasn't going to be very happy, Sasha thought as she pushed through the crowd. There was a whispering in her wake and furtive glances searched her face, suspiciously, hopefully, disdainfully. Many of the crowd were old men and women, some leaning on sticks, too old to work. But not too old to hear a rumour, and come. The Dockside faithful. She felt uncomfortable in the press, but not threatened. Not yet. That, she was certain, would come later.

Two young priests guarded the entrance to the Velo household, barehanded in plain, black robes. Caratsa, they were called in Torovan—priest apprentices, boys in whom the fathers saw potential. Not so different from Nasi-Keth umas really, Sasha reckoned. These two seemed barely more than sixteen summers, and looked nervous in the face of the crowd, but they were a better choice of guards than armed Nasi-Keth. Even Dockside, there were those who distrusted Nasi-Keth, as peddlers of pagan serrin ideas. If a big crowd were to become angry, a few Nasi-Keth would not stop them. Two unarmed, innocent caratsa, however, just might.

The boys knew her and let her in, though she had to vouch for Errollyn.

On the second floor, she found Father Berin and two younger priests kneeling before the small table in the centre of the main room. One of the younger priests held a large, silver-bound book for Father Berin, who mumbled prayer and made symbols with his right hand at the appropriate moment. On the table, propped against the base of a candle stand, its chain hung over the stand's arms, stood the Shereldin Star.

Only one of the two windows had its shutters open, spilling in the overcast midmorning light. Kessligh stood by the other, gazing through a gap in its slats upon the crowded dock below. Sasha walked to him, eyeing the kneeling priests warily as she passed. Verenthane rituals made her uncomfortable. It was a prejudice, she knew, and she tried her best to smother it. Yet she could not deny it, all the same.