Tracato: A Trial of Blood and Steel Book Three (26 page)

About nearby pools, conversation was fading. Serrin turned to look. Errollyn walked amongst them, removing an arm from Aisha’s shoulders to hop across a joining stream. Once across, Aisha replaced his arm, defiant in the face of serrin stares.

Seated half submerged in the warm water, relaxed and disinterested, was Rhillian. Wet robes floated in the water, revealing bare skin on hard muscle. Errollyn could see no new scars, yet she looked changed. Hardened. Her face, when her green eyes found him, seemed to bear a grimmer expression than it could previously show. Although her skin bore as few lines as ever, she now seemed somehow weathered, her brilliant green eyes darkened in shadow.

Conversation ceased entirely. Rhillian looked at Errollyn.

“What do you want?”

“Many things,” said Errollyn. “None of them brings me here.”

In Saalsi, it was well said, dismissing selfish intentions and claiming broader purposes. Six months ago, Rhillian might have snorted at the clever words. Now, she did not bother even that. Emerald eyes flicked from him to Aisha and back.

“What does?” she said blandly.

“I have news of Lady Renine’s intentions,” said Errollyn. “Before I share them, I’d ask more of yours.”

“Amusing,” said Kiel from his seat from the poolside, “that you feel you have the right to ask.” Errollyn ignored him. Rhillian just looked at him.

“I’ve not decided,” she said. “General Zulmaher has made allies of our worst enemies in Elisse. They flock to him mostly for fear of us. He promises them retention of feudal powers. Should they use them to retain power in Elisse, they would in turn provide a safe haven for feudalism in Rhodaan. Wealth, marriage prospects, trade, all according to feudal custom, and with no concern for the Rhodaani Council. It would be as though Maldereld had never raised a sword against feudal power in Rhodaani.”

“You can’t just remove feudalism from Rhodaan, Rhillian,” said Errollyn, his eyes narrowed. Had Rhillian learned nothing from Petrodor? “This cancer cannot be cut from the body, not without removing heart and lungs with it.”

“Errollyn speaks sense,” said an elderly serrin, seated on a cushioned chair in the wading pool. His skinny shins were half submerged in the water, his long hair white like Rhillian’s, but with age. “Rhodaan is a three-legged stool. The feudalists and the Civid Sein make two legs, the majority uncommitted population the third. Remove one leg, and it shall fall.”

“Saalshen makes a fourth leg, Lesthen,” said Kiel. “We can hold up any stool.”

“For a time,” said Lesthen. “For a time, perhaps. But we are not the pillar of foundation in Rhodaan we once were. Human civilisation grows rapidly. Serrin civilisation, slowly. When I was a young man, Saalshen had great power here. Today, our power remains the same, but Rhodaani power has increased tenfold. Today we are small, the strong child whose younger siblings have grown to manhood, while we remain children still.”

“I’m not planning to remove feudalism,” said Rhillian. “But neither can it be allowed to sabotage Rhodaan from within. What news do you have for me, Errollyn?”

Errollyn examined her. Dare he tell her? Most serrin would have felt compelled by the
vel’ennar
to be here. Unlike them, he had a choice. If he granted her this information, it would not be for unreasoned compulsion, but for judgement, and logic. That, at least, was what he told himself. Or did he not truly fantasise that perhaps, one day, he would do something to demonstrate his love of Saalshen, and win them all back to him?

Maybe he was fooling himself to think that he had a choice. Saalshen’s power here was a reality, as was Rhillian’s control over it. He could not afford to see Family Renine’s plans come to fruition any more than Rhillian could. Even if she chose a poor course of action, surely that was better than the alternative?

“There has been a courier. Between Lady Renine, and, I suspect, Regent Arosh of Larosa. I do not know how many messages. Perhaps several. Perhaps many, dating back years.”

There was silence in the chamber. Rhillian stood up. She looked suspicious, though whether at him or the facts he revealed, Errollyn could not guess. “Treachery?” she asked.

“Assuredly. She may claim she was demanding his immediate surrender, but that is already the Council’s demand. If she believed that, she’d simply support the Council. To go behind their back suggests other intentions.”

Kiel was smiling more broadly by the moment. “Errollyn. This good turn you do us is most unexpected.”

“I try to do what is right, Kiel,” Errollyn said coldly. “What is right, and what serves your purposes, are not always the same thing.” He looked at Rhillian. “What shall you do?”

Rhillian was gazing past him. Her emerald eyes were alive with possibility.

The amphitheatre was a marvel. Sasha sat cross-legged in her spot, midway up the slope, eating grapes and handcakes she’d bought from a vendor, and watched the play with intrigue. Daish, Beled and some other friends from the Tol’rhen sat on the stone seats, sharing food and exchanging murmured critiques of the dialogue. Occasionally Daish would murmur some important point of plot to Sasha, for the play was mostly in Rhodaani, with an occasional smattering of high-class Larosan. The theatre seated perhaps a thousand, mostly wealthy, fine evening clothes aflicker in the light of a hundred torches. The stage below was ringed with fire and lantern, to lend an unearthly texture to the actors’ costumes, beneath a black and starry sky.

The atmosphere of the theatre amazed her. A thousand people, all gathered together to watch the telling of a story. In Lenayin, tales were told to friends and family by the hearthside, and acting was not a profession respected by the majority of Lenays. Yet here, it seemed a matter of some seriousness. Furthermore, the play was quite intricate, and very recent, in the time of its telling. A commentary on society. Sasha found the concept intriguing, and a little unsettling, especially when so many of the Tol’rhen’s most precocious students insisted upon attending, and knew most of the playwrights’ names, and argued frequently over the merits of each. Culture, in her experience, existed to affirm one’s beliefs and values, not to challenge them.

A young woman in actor’s guild robes, and a torch in hand, picked her way carefully from the theatre’s steps, and along the ledge past audience members and trays of food. She paused at Sasha’s shoulder, crouching to whisper, “There is a serrin lady to see you, Lady Sashandra,” in Torovan.

Sasha frowned at her. Errollyn was at the Mahl’rhen, attending to Rhillian’s return from Elisse. Sasha had wanted to attend, but hadn’t been invited. She hadn’t been happy about it, but Errollyn, Kessligh and others who ought to know insisted that Errollyn was safe there, and in all likelihood, the talks would take many days. Knowing how impatient Sasha became with such pontificating, Errollyn had suggested (rather forcefully, to her annoyance) that she go to the theatre with friends instead.

“Back soon,” she told Daish and Beled, and left to follow the young woman. Steep steps led to a walkway around the rim of the theatre, guarded by a railing. Leaning on the railing a small, blonde woman watched the play with fascinated eyes. Sasha’s breath caught in her throat. “Aisha?”

Aisha looked at her. Pretty, pale blue eyes within a softly rounded face, she’d always looked like a little girl. Save now, when she smiled, and the emotion in her eyes spoke of things no child had ever known. Sasha hugged her fiercely, and was relieved that Aisha’s grip was just as strong. Some serrin had not forgiven her. Perhaps it was because Aisha was half-human herself. Or perhaps it was just that she was Aisha. When they pulled back to look at each other, both were crying.

“I’d heard you were well,” Sasha told her. “You look well.”

“You too. City life has not turned you into an old hag yet.”

“Not yet!” Sasha laughed. “I went riding the other day. Spirits it was beautiful, I’ve missed horses so much. If I must spend another season away from them, I might just shrivel up and die.”

“Me, I’ve been riding rather a lot lately.”

Sasha nodded, wiping her eyes. “The war. How was it?”

“Victorious, happily. It was a war. They have their moments.”

“They do.”

They held hands, leaning on the railing and looking down at the stage.

“Oh it’s been so long since I’ve attended a play,” Aisha said wistfully. “Whose is this?”

“Some man named Deshirei,” Sasha replied.

“Oh Deshirei. He’s wonderful. A little tragic, though. I’m sure this will end badly.”

“It does seem to be heading that way,” Sasha agreed. “It began far too happily, and everything since has been a brewing storm.”

“He does that,” said Aisha. “It is rather the way of things, is it not?”

“Not always, surely?”

Aisha looked at her, and smiled. “Not always, no. Dear Sasha. I’m so glad you’re well.”

Sasha kissed her. “Why did you come tonight? I’d heard it was rather busy at the Mahl’rhen?”

Aisha looked back down at the stage. Evasively, Sasha thought. “Is your sister here tonight?”

“Alythia? No, with the company she keeps these days, I’d have noticed. Why?”

“How are your relations with her lately?”

“Good,” said Sasha without hesitation. “Much to our mutual surprise. We’ve merely accepted our differences. It’s amazing how much improves when you stop trying to convert other people to your own opinion.”

Aisha nodded. “I think perhaps we should find her.”

“Why?” And, in the cold trepidation that followed, “What, now?”

“Now.”

They walked uphill from the amphitheatre. Daish had decided to join them, having more interest in meeting the Princess Alythia than watching a play. And probably, Sasha guessed by the young man’s lively dark gaze, having more interest in Aisha, too. Perhaps he thought Aisha as young as she looked, and wondered if he were a chance. With serrin, provided one was somewhat good looking, well presented and agreeable, one was always a chance.

“Things are well with Errollyn?” Aisha asked.

“Oh not you too,” Sasha groaned. “Everyone asks when we’ll marry. It seems an alarming fashion amongst serrin in Tracato.”

“Most serrin who live among humans for a long time do so from a sense of fascination.”

“Born of horror,” Sasha added.

“Perhaps. But
talmaad
in particular are always keen to try strange human customs. It’s less alarming here because unlike in some other human lands, here divorce is also common.”

“Oh it’s still seen as a sin,” Daish countered, “I wouldn’t say it’s common simply because the educated serrinim and the Tol’rhen think so. Ordinary folk are a different matter.”

“Well, we educated serrinim can avail of it, at least,” said Aisha. “But your relationship with Errollyn intrigues, it’s no surprise everyone asks questions.”

“Serrin and human bed all the time in the Saalshen Bacosh!” Sasha protested. “I’ll bet no one asked
your
parents so many questions.”

“Yes, but my father was a farmer, and my mother had no interest in politics. The uma of Kessligh Cronenverdt, the daughter of King Torvaal of Lenayin to boot, and Saalshen’s most scandalous dissenter from the serrin unanimity, make rather more of a stir.”

“Especially in Tracato,” Daish added. “Everyone loves a scandal.”

Sasha glared at him. “Exactly how are Errollyn and I scandalous?”

“You’re not,” Daish said. “You just seem like you ought to be.”

“And what of you, Aisha? You’re more familiar with humans than most serrin, yet I don’t recall you ever claiming a human lover.”

“Oh no,” Aisha said adamantly, “serrin women don’t do that nearly as much as men. Serrin men like to see themselves as virtuous knights rescuing poor human women from their misery…or like Errollyn, are drawn to the thrill of the wild and dangerous otherness. Women here are treated like doormats, I don’t think many serrin women consider the prospect of tying
their lives to human men particularly attractive. My father is a remarkable exception.”

“But that’s only to say that you’ve not yet found a human man to suit your taste,” Daish cut in. “It’s not to say that serrin women are not as adventurous as men, merely that you dislike what’s on offer.”

“That’s very true,” Aisha conceded, giving the young Tracatan a curious look. “Please elaborate.”

“I mean,” Daish continued, “what if you were to meet a particularly handsome human man, who was kind and courteous, and who found no difficulty in treating with…with beautiful serrin women who…who did not wish to be treated as doormats?”

“An interesting proposition,” said Aisha, walking a little closer. “And where do you think I might meet such a man? They are in my experience quite rare. Even your master playwright Deshirei only considers romantic scenarios where the man courts, and the woman swoons.”

“Well…” Daish was considering how far to push it. “I may happen to know such a man, in fact. I may indeed.”

“
Would
you now?” said Aisha, walking closer still. “Sasha, is it not our blessing to be in the company of a man with such fortunate acquaintances?”

“Indeed!” said Sasha, and she whispered in his ear, “Careful lad, this one’s nearly twice your age and can read every book in the Tol’rhen library in its original tongue.” Daish, to his credit, did not look dissuaded, only intrigued. “Daish is currently studying the principle volumes of Giraud,” she added more loudly.