There was a brief pause, to allow for a collective rumble of approval to follow, with some nodding of heads. For a great warrior to talk of such a thing as honour, before such a gathering, at such a time, was a serious matter indeed. At such times, men of great import listened hard.
'A second thing-you claim that your honour depends upon adherence to certain ancient traditions. I don't care.' An utter hush had filled the hall, broken only by the faint, rippling sound of flaming torches above. 'I cannot afford to care. I am Nasi-Keth. Your ways are not my ways. I respect them nonetheless. Thirty years ago, the men of this place swore a similar, undying respect to me and my ways, however strange they found them. My ways include an uma-a student, if you will-who remains by my side to learn as best I can teach. I would never require you to change your ways, Yuan Cassyl of Dessyd village, were you to enter my house and my hospitality. It would be dishonourable of me. And yet now, you ask me to be like you-Goeren- yai, which I am not.'
'A rider came today from Perys,' came a new voice, deep and powerful. 'He witnessed the great deeds there of our guests and the warriors of Tyree, against the bloody-handed Hadryn. He also claimed that the uma of Yuan Kessligh was there possessed by the Synnich, and in such a state slew nine Hadryn warriors by her own hand and tasted their blood.'
There was a flurry of spirit signs across the hall and a murmuring of oaths. Then the speaker emerged from behind a stone pillar. He bore a thick, wild mane of dark hair and a vast, bushy black beard. Grim, dark eyes peered from a profusion of strong yet intricate tattoos that masked the left side of his face. A long, single tri-braid fell clear from the rest, to lie upon the right of his jaw. He walked slowly forward in heavy boots and a leather vest beneath a cloak of green and black Taneryn colours. Lord Krayliss of Taneryn, the sole Goeren-yai great lord of Lenayin.
'The spirit men all agree there have been omens,' Krayliss continued, his eyes still fixed on Kessligh. The sword that swung from his hip was a monster, although to judge from the breadth of the man's shoulders, Sasha reckoned it might be about the correct size for him. 'The sky tonight was red, foretelling of much blood to be shed… or of the coming of a great power. Perhaps that is you, Yuan Kessligh? Or your uma?'
'I am not a man to judge such things, Lord Krayliss,' Kessligh replied, shrewdly. 'If you wish a recounting, best that you ask her yourself.'
Krayliss stopped at the forefront of his gathering, assorted village headmen and respected warriors from across Taneryn. Followers of Krayliss, at least. Not all the men of Taneryn could be described as such. But some, facing Hadryn aggression, might rally to his side nonetheless.
'Yuan Cassyl makes a fair observation,' he rumbled, meaty thumbs tucked into his broad leather belt. 'Women are not welcome at Goeren-yai councils of war. It is not our way.'
'If my ways are not welcome here,' said Kessligh, 'then I shall leave. Do you revoke your previous invitation?' Their stares locked. A contest of wills, the stubborn versus the disciplined. The blunt instrument versus the sharp. A lord never revoked an invitation. Kessligh had drawn the line, somewhat closer to Lord Krayliss's toes than most men would dare.
'Girl!' Krayliss barked then, with a wry twist of his lips. 'Come forward! Step where we can see you!'
Sasha cast her cloak away from her left shoulder, exposing the hilt of her sword, and moved quietly to Kessligh's side. It was an effort not to meet Krayliss's eyes, but she kept her gaze demurely on his broad chest, as a good Goeren-yai maiden should among such mighty warriors. Surrounding her, some men stared in displeasure. Others with intent curiosity. And some with mouths smirking in imitation of their lord, as if thinking the matter some huge jest.
'So…' rumbled Krayliss, raking her from head to toe with his gaze. 'The girl who was once a princess. Some men still call you that, do they not?'
'The men of Lenayin shall do as they will, my Lord,' Sasha replied, provoking some laughter at that truism. 'It is no longer my title, I ceased to be princess when I left Baen-Tar.'
'The bonds of blood are deeper than mere titles, girl,' said Krayliss. Some of the smirking ceased at that utterance. The lord's eyes bore deeper. Sasha's instinct was to meet challenge with challenge. The effort to keep her eyes lowered was enough to bring sweat to her brow. 'These tales from Perys. The rider who gave them was young and with little hair between his legs… much like our Master Jaryd here.'
A roar of laughter from the gathered men. Sasha repressed a retort with difficulty. Sometimes, in her love of the Goeren-yai, she forgot why she disliked Lord Krayliss so greatly. Now she remembered.
'I did not slay nine men,' she said tightly.
'Ha,' said one village headman, contemptuously, 'as I said. Just as I said.'
'I slew four.'
Deathly silence across the hall. 'You witnessed this deed?' Krayliss asked Kessligh.
'Not I,' said Kessligh. 'I saw the bodies in the aftermath.'
'I saw it!' called Jaryd to the group, proudly. 'I was not ten paces from the last when he fell! All four fell so fast and so close that I had barely yelled warning of the first, when the last had fallen upon his corpse! It was a masterful display and I pity those who were not there to see it! Even as Verenthane, I swear I could see the mark of your spirits in the strokes of her blade!'
Sasha swore beneath her breath, through clenched teeth. Stupid, ignorant, macho young fool. Oh how she was going to kick his backside when they were outside once more…
'You make great claims, young Master,' growled Krayliss, with considerable displeasure. 'What does a Verenthane know of such things? On what authority does a follower of the lowlands order claim knowledge of the ancient spirits?'
'I was there, my Lord,' Jaryd retorted with all too little fear. Did he know who he faced? Challenging Lord Krayliss within his own hall was not the same as defeating wooden swords at tournaments. In these parts, men fought to kill, not for games. 'I have eyes. I tell you only what I saw.'
'Even if true, it proves nothing!' retorted another man, from the far side of the long table. 'The spirits are not guides for women! They never have been!'
'Spirits alone were never mentioned,' said another, low and soft, as if fearing the presence of unspoken, unseen power. 'Only the Synnich was mentioned.'
There was about the room another flurry of spirit signs and the muttering of oaths. In some faces now, there was real fear. Krayliss surveyed the commotion with a dark, furrowed stare.
'I don't believe her!' pronounced another. 'The men of Hadryn are bastards, yet their swordsmanship is unquestioned! Perhaps only the smallest handful of men could defeat so many! No woman has such skill with a blade to take four in the manner described! Only a woman of Saalshen could manage such a feat, and a great one at that!'
'Exactly!' retorted another. 'A serrin woman could manage such a feat because the serrin walk with the spirits!'
An uproar followed, men shouting argument and counterargument at close, heated range. In several quarters, pushing broke out, quickly separated by cooler heads before it could escalate. To Sasha's left, Damon was staring about in disbelief. To her right, Kessligh simply folded his arms and waited, as many times he had waited for a much younger Sashandra Lenayin to cease her raging tempers before insisting just as firmly upon the very thing that had caused them. Sasha simply watched Lord Krayliss, unafraid now of meeting his gaze. Krayliss stared back, unmoved within the commotion.
Perhaps he expected her gaze to drop. Anger burned in Sasha's stare. A warning, when the others were not looking. And it was Krayliss's eyes that widened, in surprise and anger, from the power of that meeting.
'Enough!' he yelled, a broad fist held high, and the clamour eased as quickly as it had begun. 'Such debates should wait for a later hour,' he said darkly. 'We have other business to attend to. Prince Damon rides to serve the justice of Baen-Tar. Little enough hope do we of the Goeren-yai have in the justice of Verenthane kings..
It was said with great sarcasm and brought a harsh laugh from many of those surrounding.
'He comes to us with a mind full of questions!' Krayliss announced, in louder, defiantly jovial tones. 'He wishes to know the cause of our old friend Lord Rashyd's death, and the reason his son stands upon our gate with his blade in the turf, stamping his little temper tantrum now that papa is no longer about to spank his skinny backside!'
Another laugh from the men and some mugs were raised in salute. Krayliss turned to Damon with defiant confidence. 'Yes, I slew Lord Rashyd! His priests came to harass the Gessyl townsfolk and I rode to see them off! Rashyd crossed our border uninvited and confronted us! He spurred his horse against my people and I slew him for his insolence! And what, Prince of Lenayin, shall you do about it?'
