Tracato: A Trial of Blood and Steel Book Three (5 page)

“Sasha…” Kessligh began, with weary impatience.

“This is ridiculous!” Sasha exclaimed. “Who the hells else would we be? What kind of honourless people go about asking others to prove who they are?”

Errollyn put an arm about Sasha’s shoulders to restrain her, and leaned forward. “Excuse me?” he asked, back in Torovan. “I’m rather tired and I’d like to lie down. If this is going to take a while, could I just go on and leave them?”

The red-coat looked amused. “Of course, serrin sir. Whenever you please.”

“Oh that’s great!” said Sasha. “Serrin get to enter whenever they please, and the rest of us must…” Errollyn muzzled her with a strong hand.

“I couldn’t take her with me?” he asked the red-coat. “She’s quite sweet with me, she only barks and growls at strangers.” Sasha struggled to remove his hand, but it wasn’t easy—Errollyn’s right-handed grip came more from bows than swords, and had ferocious power.

“Master Errollyn,” said the red-coat, “I do believe I recall you from Council sessions. How many years has it been?”

“Nearly three,” said Errollyn.

Sasha finally freed herself, though it took both of her hands to do so.

“And you can vouch for these others?”

“For Kessligh, Sashandra and Alythia, yes. I’m quite sure I haven’t been deceived as to their identities, by this one least of all. She’s far too annoying to be anyone else.” Alythia laughed like that was the funniest thing she’d heard in weeks.

The red-coat smiled grimly. “Very well. I shall require your marks on this paper, and you must report to a council officer before sundown tomorrow.
Failure to do so shall be taken as admission that your stated identities are false, and the Blackboots shall be alerted.”

“Thank you, Errollyn,” Alythia said graciously as they walked down the pier. “If we’d left it to Sasha, I’m sure we’d have all spent the night in a Tracato dungeon, at best.”

Sasha let them talk, stalking angrily ahead. The decking felt as though it were still heaving beneath her, and it was a curious sensation indeed to take long strides and be certain that the boards were, in fact, not moving. The pier was wide: two horse-and-carts could easily have passed, making it possible to unload two large vessels simultaneously.

Fronting the docks were mostly warehouses, grim and silent, and guarded by militia men who Sasha guessed might be hired swords. There was little of the life and bustle of the Petrodor Dockside, and the water smelt foul as it lapped against the retaining wall. A sheltered harbour, Sasha realised, with no ocean currents to disperse the city’s wastes.

Tracato Dockside was far more orderly than Petrodor’s. The stone facades of taverns and dwellings presented a friendly face to the sea, alive with the light of lanterns.

Ahead, Councilman Dhael had walked to the forecourt of a tavern, where men waited with horses tethered to carriages to take folk up the incline. Sasha was in half a mood to walk, to stretch her legs and to see Tracato up close. But Alythia would assuredly dislike the notion, to say nothing of Kessligh’s leg, so Sasha headed toward the carriages.

There were four of them, their drivers standing around a forecourt fountain, sharing drinks and laughing. And now, stepping about the carriages, were men in wide hats, matching dark tunic and pants, and tall black boots. Those men were looking at her. And now, they were coming toward her, swords swinging at their hips.

Sasha kept walking, counting ten Blackboots in all. They were spreading out now, across her path. Heart thumping in anticipation of trouble, Sasha found herself paying more attention to the dockfront windows behind the men than the men themselves. A Petrodor reflex that was, searching for archers—always her greatest concern. Swordsmen she could handle. Perhaps not ten, but maybe.

“Sashandra Lenayin!” announced the leader.

“Aye,” said Sasha, with as much unconcern as she could muster. “Who blocks my way?”

“We are the Blackboots of Tracato!” he said in Torovan.

“I can see that.” She stopped. A city militia, by the coin of the Council of Rhodaan, the Blackboots kept the peace, it was said. And given that the
Council was largely under the control of the feudalists these days, it was also said the Blackboots were bought and paid for by the noble families of Tracato.

“We have orders that you are to be detained.”

She was not particularly surprised. There had been enough Tracatans in Petrodor of late, many of whom she’d talked to. It was common knowledge that she and Kessligh were headed this way. No surprise that someone here found the fact disquieting. But she did not like how it developed on this quiet, nighttime dock, with only a few witnesses who could be arrested, paid off or murdered.

She drew her sword. “By whose authority?”

Swords came out in reply. “The Council of Rhodaan,” said the lieutenant, stony faced. Sasha looked beyond him to Councilman Dhael, now boarding his carriage. Dhael looked her way. He saw, but did nothing. He was an elected member of the Council of Rhodaan. Had he known?

Dhael’s carriage rattled off.

“Now lads,” came Kessligh’s voice from Sasha’s back, “your seniors have done you a grave disservice in sending only ten of you.” He came closer, yet Sasha could not hear his staff tapping on the paving. That meant he’d drawn his blade, as no doubt had Errollyn. “I am Kessligh Cronenverdt, and this is Errollyn. If you know our identities, then you’ll know that ten to three are odds greatly in our favour.”

“You have no authority to defy the order of the Council of Rhodaan,” said the lieutenant. “Besides which, you may wish to reconsider the odds.”

More Blackboots were emerging from the tavern. Some were putting their hats on, others adjusting their sword belts. They’d been drinking, clearly, and caught off guard.

“Twenty to three?” Errollyn said in Lenay at Sasha’s side, testing the weight of his blade.

“You can have the seven on the left,” said Sasha.

“Oh, generous.”

“Oh look, you pack of imbeciles,” said Alythia, striding to stand between the groups. “Seriously, why must everyone always draw swords at the slightest provocation?” She drew herself up to her full height before the lieutenant, chin up and chest out. The lieutenant’s eyes dropped, predictably. Sasha nearly laughed.

“Fear not, my friends,” she said in Lenay, “my sister’s breasts may save us yet.”

Alythia threw Sasha a nasty look. “Lieutenant,” she said, “I am Princess Alythia Lenayin.”

“Princess,” said the lieutenant.

“Yes, Princess! Wedded to Gregan Halmady, and widowed in the War of
the King. I have come to Tracato to meet with the Lady Renine, and her son, the young Lord Alfriedo. They shall be expecting me.”

The lieutenant looked wary. Not a bad ploy at all, Sasha reconsidered. The Renines were the highest rank of nobility in Tracato, direct descendants of the last Rhodaani king. Some Rhodaani feudalists, pursuing the distant dream of a restoration of royal power, called Alfriedo “The Young King.” And now, come treating upon their doorstep, was a princess.

“One of these days,” said Errollyn in Lenay, “you shall stop underestimating your sister.” Alythia might have heard him, for she seemed to stand a little taller.

The lieutenant conferred with his men. There was hand waving, and some agitation. Alythia threw Sasha a superior look.

“Don’t get smug yet,” Sasha told her in Lenay, “there’s still twenty of them.”

“And vastly less dangerous, without a blade being swung,” Alythia said. “When will you learn?”

Yells from across the dock interrupted the lieutenant’s arguments. Everyone looked as down a nearby road came running young men with no apparent uniform, save the swords across their backs. But not serrin. Nasi-Keth then. The lieutenant rolled his eyes in exasperation.

The Nasi-Keth came on with no small amount of hollering and whooping, like boys on their way to a mud fight. As they came closer, Sasha saw that many of them were just that—boys, or teenagers at least, sprinting now with the enthusiasm of those who feared they’d nearly missed an excitement.

“Kessligh Cronenverdt!” exclaimed the first to arrive. This was a man, not a boy, bald with a red goatee. His blue eyes shone with lively welcome. “I am Reynold Hein of the Tol’rhen, welcome to Tracato!”

He grasped Kessligh’s hand and shook, ignoring the drawn blade. Other young men skidded in, out of breath and happy.

“I’m sorry we didn’t get here sooner,” Reynold continued. “Our Ulenshaal predicted the winds and thought it a good chance your boat would arrive this evening, so we waited at the tavern up the road. Its owner is a good friend to Nasi-Keth; there’s not the same unsavoury characters that frequent some other taverns…” He threw a glance at the Blackboots. “But our Dockwatcher strolled off to talk to a pretty girl who works along the way….”

Catcalls and jeers came from the Nasi-Keth at an unfortunate young man who blushed red and looked at his feet.

“…and we nearly missed your arrival!”

“Step away from them!” barked the lieutenant, brandishing his sword. “They are to be detained by order of the Council of Rhodaan!”

The Nasi-Keth laughed, not even bothering to draw their own weapons. Several danced daringly close to the Blackboots, bare handed, making faces. The Blackboots seemed concerned all the same, weapons ready.

“Oh, don’t mind them,” said Reynold, “they can barely use those toys they’re holding. I daresay you three could take them all without a sweat, but it’s really better if we don’t have to kill any Blackboots tonight….”

An infuriated Blackboot lunged at one young man who came too close. The Nasi-Keth backed up, laughing and hooting. The Blackboot’s hat fell off in his lunge. In a flash a Nasi-Keth grabbed it and ran off with his prize, waving it in the air. Several others pursued, wanting to try it on.

“But I haven’t introduced myself to everyone,” said Reynold, moving on to Sasha. “You must be Sashandra Lenayin! An honour…and Princess Alythia!”

A flurry of introductions followed, eager young men equally pleased to meet them all. Alythia seemed a little frustrated. She’d been grooming Councilman Dhael throughout the long boat journey, and now he had ridden off. The Blackboots had seemed about to take her to Family Renine, yet the Blackboots now faded back toward the fountain and carriages, plotting their next move. Alythia sought the powerful like a river sought the ocean. Sasha, however, was more pleased with present company.

The Blackboots returned to their tavern while the Nasi-Keth commandeered a carriage. It became clear, however, that there was not a great distance to walk, and that the Nasi-Keth lads would all be walking. Sasha, Errollyn and Kessligh joined them, Kessligh insisting that his leg was fine over short distances. Alythia rode in the carriage, with three young men valiantly volunteering to accompany her. All three looked quite anxious in her presence, so Sasha did not have much concern for Alythia’s honour.

“Where do all you lads come from?” Kessligh asked as they walked together up the slope.

“From all over,” Reynold Hein said proudly. “We are the sons of poor folk and wealthy folk, farmers and land owners, traders, craftsmen, from all of Rhodaan to the north, east, west and south. All come to learn the ways of the Nasi-Keth in the Tol’rhen; it has been thus for two hundred years.”

“And for far longer than that,” Kessligh agreed.

“Oh, of course,” Reynold exclaimed, as though delighted to be reminded that he was not talking to someone who knew little of Nasi-Keth history. “The Nasi-Keth have been in Rhodaan for more centuries than we know how to count. We were a persecuted movement for centuries beneath the feudals, and now we flourish. Our greatest regret is that we have not been able to spread our wings beyond the Saalshen Bacosh, into further lands. That is why we have
been so excited the last few months, hearing that the renowned Kessligh Cronenverdt had come to Petrodor, and was likely to continue on to Tracato!”

“The Blackboots back there,” said Sasha, “why did they want us detained?”

“Some feudalist no doubt finds your presence threatening,” Reynold said dismissively. Despite his baldness, he was a young man…no more than thirty, Sasha guessed. Lean and fit, he moved with the lightness of a fighter. “They squabble a lot. And of course, you’re both Lenay…or Sashandra, at least, and Kessligh is most commonly thought of as Lenay….”

“I think of myself as Lenay,” Kessligh agreed.

“And your army currently marches on us from the west,” Reynold continued. Neither Kessligh nor Sasha replied.

“Anyhow,” Reynold continued, “you are Nasi-Keth, and you cannot help the actions of the Lenay king. You are welcome guests of the Tol’rhen in Tracato. Just be warned—not every Rhodaani shall feel the same.”

“I understand,” said Kessligh. He seemed to walk easily enough with his staff, and the incline was not steep. “What are you all studying?”

“Us here this evening? I am a junior Ulenshaal myself, I teach history and philosophy. These are some of my students, but not all.”

Some of the other lads volunteered their areas of learning. There seemed no particular pattern of interests, though philsophy seemed very common. One boy, who could not have been more than fourteen, enthusiastically explained how he was studying the applications of mathematics to stonemasonry. He hoped to become a great builder, and make grand buildings in Tracato and across the Saalshen Bacosh.

“And in Elisse too one day,” someone suggested, and there were cheers. That turned the conversation to the war in Elisse. General Zulmaher was making great progress, it seemed, though there remained a worry that he would not complete his conquest before the great Larosan and Lenay armies mustered in the west. Some concern was voiced that General Zulmaher was a feudalist, and did not truly wish to liberate Elisse from feudal tyranny. Others argued that it did not matter, so long as Elisse was eliminated as a threat to Rhodaan’s northern border while the Steel faced the oncoming, and far greater, western threat.

Another young man thought it wonderful that Elisse would soon become the fourth province of the Saalshen Bacosh, the first such expansion since the serrin arrived two centuries before. Sasha recalled what Councilman Dhael had said about imperial ambition, and how some felt it didn’t belong in Rhodaan. None of these young students seemed to agree. Perhaps times were changing.