'Well done,' Kessligh said simply, and Sasha could hear real approval in his voice. From Kessligh, that was rare. Damon seemed to ride a little taller in the saddle, but his expression remained dark.
'I hate these fools,' he muttered in reply. 'Gods how I hate them, Verenthane and Goeren-yai alike. So ready to split each other's skulls with their petty squabbling. I've half a mind to let them at it.'
'In such conflicts,' Kessligh said calmly, 'it's always the villagers that suffer most.'
Damon let out a sharp breath. 'I know. I'm just… angry.' He shook his head, as if to clear it, and gazed out upon the lake. The mountains on the far side made a perfect reflection on the water and it seemed to calm his nerves. 'So we shall have at it with young Usyn. I hear he's as much a pain as his father. Sofy says she'd heard he once challenged a courtier to an honour duel for making fun of a new shirt he'd worn. The courtier was found hanging in his bedchambers the following morning, too frightened to partake. Apparently his swordsmanship was nothing close to Usyn's, and everyone knew it.'
'It's well known they don't fight fair in Hadryn,' Sasha remarked sourly.
'Oh aye,' remarked Captain Tyrun from the far side of their four-abreast line, 'he's a wonderful young fellow, Usyn. Brash, vain and immature. To be expected, if you knew his father.'
'But not stupid,' Kessligh said calmly, 'never think that. His father was smart as all hells.'
'What do you suggest, Yuan Kessligh?' Damon asked.
'I have no suggestions,' Kessligh said mildly. 'I have every confidence in you, my Prince.'
And Damon, Sasha noticed, seemed most unhappy with that vote of confidence.
They rode past the Hadryn lines as preparations were being made to send five riders back to Vassyl for bodies. There were some light tents erected and some heavy skins unfurled on the ground for men to sleep under. Perhaps a hundred men, Sasha reckoned-not enough against the several score archers Vassyl looked to have. Probably Usyn Telgar was keeping most of his cavalry at the walls of Halleryn, to prevent any breakout, and lacked enough strength as yet to send more about the lake. Equally probable that some hot-headed Hadryn Shields commander on this side of the lake had become impatient with waiting, and attempted to take Vassyl with single- handed glory… and predictable consequences. With Vassyl fallen, the rear route into Halleryn would be cut, and any potential Taneryn reinforcement with it. Also, Sasha guessed, it would open a second front against Halleryn's walls.
Many of the Hadryn men had paused in their routine of tending horses, food and weapons to gaze sullenly at the passing Tyree column. There was little affection in their manner and, above the pounding of hooves, Sasha fancied she heard several cries in a northern tongue… 'Go home!' seemed the gist of it. She wondered if the men of Tyree could not be equally justified in yelling the same thing back.
The ride about the lake was not so long, for the trail across the mountains' feet was well maintained, with little stone and wood bridges to cross the streams that descended from the peaks; sheer rock faces thrusting clear of the tree-covered lower slopes.
Eventually, the column passed the last of the mountains and rode from the patchy tree cover into the open, grassy basin of a valley. Directly opposite, upon the lakeshore, loomed Mount Halleryn, with Halleryn town nestled on its lower slope, one wall facing directly onto the water. Encamped about the feet of the Halleryn walls, visible only in patches past intervening clumps of pine and valley floor boulders, was an army. Damon urged the column into a final gallop, and they thundered in formation across waving grasslands and flowers until they could see a line of tents, carts and emerging soldiers ahead. Tent formations were widely spread, suggesting that the Hadryn were present in less strength than they would have liked. Men tended horses, or performed various duties about camp, or sword drills and other exercise on the grass. Sasha guessed that they only appeared spread out because the valley was so wide. There were several thousand men here, at least.
A small group of riders headed out to greet them and directed them to the lakeshore, where the command was given to dismount. A soldier came forward to collect the horses and a Hadryn Shields captain, in sweeping black and silver cloak and red helmet plume, beckoned them toward the several large tents that had been pitched directly upon the last of the valley's grass, before the broken stones of the lakeshore.
'Is it wise for her to come?' Damon asked Kessligh, with a dubious glance at Sasha. Sasha held her tongue.
'The authority of Baen-Tar is absolute,' Kessligh replied. 'Make no concessions. If I come, she comes. Do you wish me present?'
Damon nodded, brusquely. 'Let's go.' He removed his helm as they walked, running a gloved hand over flattened hair. Captain Tyrun and Jaryd remained behind, organising horse care and feed. Sasha stretched as she walked, saddlesore and weary.
Rather than entering either of the large, lakeside tents, the Shields captain led them across the grass beyond. On the right, men were washing clothes and gathering water from the lake. One soldier passed, laden with ten bulging skins, and granting even Damon no more than a curious glance.
Several men, Sasha saw, were squatted naked in the chill waters, scrubbing themselves. Damon shot her a concerned glance. Sasha snorted. As if she hadn't seen that before.
Ahead, then, Sasha could see a lone figure on the open, grassy plain. A light breeze caught at his black and silver cloak, revealing a firm, resolute stance as he contemplated the walls of Halleryn before him. They were of old, dark stone, perhaps as tall as five men, with battlements on top. It was not an enormous fortress, but Mount Halleryn blocked assault from one side and the lake from another. A tributary stream from Mount Halleryn had been diverted to run before the walls, spanned by a bridge where it ran into the lake. Over the bridge a trail climbed to the wall's gate-a big metal grille, as tall as two men. No more than a third of the town's wall was suitable for assault and the rear, lakeside trail would require an impossible attack in single file.
The man did not turn around as Damon, Kessligh and Sasha approached. The Hadryn Shields captain halted at his side and saluted.
'My Lord,' he said, 'Prince Damon, Kessligh Cronenverdt and Sashandra Lenayin.' No 'Princess' or 'Highness' from this man. Not even, she suspected, a 'M'Lady.'
Usyn Telgar did not turn to greet them. His hands appeared to be folded upon something before his waist. His sword, Sasha guessed, considering that his scabbard was empty. And her heart beat a little faster, recognising the significance of that gesture. 'So Prince Damon,' Usyn said then. A young man's voice, cold and bleak. 'I heard that you were coming. With eighty men.'
'Shortly, more than a thousand,' Damon said curtly.
Usyn nodded slowly to himself, considering. Still he did not turn around. 'And a girl,' he added, with dry irony. His tone did not work Sasha's temper as another man's might. That was hot temper. This anger she felt was cold, dark and menacing. She could enjoy hot anger-the exhilarating burst of temper and retaliation. Of cold anger, there was nothing pleasant to be said.
'You have ordered Hadryn forces onto Taneryn lands,' Damon said, ignoring the remark. 'State your business here.'
Usyn finally turned. It was a pale, youthful face, framed with the closetrimmed, dark hair of a devout northern Verenthane. An eight-pointed star lay prominently upon his leather vest, and his belt held gold-handled knives and a large, engraved horn. They were the clothes of a soldier in the field, yet to Sasha's eye they seemed too well polished to be the kit of an honest soldier.
'You would command me, my Prince?' Usyn said coldly. 'When BaenTar has ignored this Taneryn rabble for so long? Has let them breed upon our borders like rats? Many times we warned of this development and Baen-Tar, in all its wisdom, chose not to act. And now you would seek to impose command? Your timing is lacking, sir.'
'Baen-Tar has always commanded here,' Damon replied. 'Baen-Tar always shall. State your business upon Taneryn lands. I won't ask again.'
Usyn glared, his nostrils flaring. He hooked both thumbs into his belt, his sword quivering behind him, impaled in the soft, grassy earth. No doubt Usyn had thrust his blade into the turf upon first arrival at the walls of Halleryn. It was an old Lenay custom for a man with a grievance to do so before the home of another, the blade remaining until the matter was settled. Some such of the old ways survived even in the north, even as the northerners denied any connection to Goeren-yai. It was 'Lenay tradition,' they claimed. Sasha remained unimpressed; the Goeren-yai were Lenay tradition.
'The townsfolk of Gessyl mistreated some travelling brothers,' said Usyn. 'My father rode to their rescue, as the townsfolk knew he would. It was a trap, my Prince. Lord Krayliss lured him there, with the express intent to commit murder.
