Tracato

half are paid men of the feudalists, and the other half are scared of those who are. My men are soldiers, good at killing the enemy and little more. What you ask is Blackboot work, law and evidence. It may be beyond them.”

“What of the city guard?”

“Hired soldiers, ordinary folk with ordinary values, neither good nor bad. Most are country folk though, so little sympathy for the feudalists there.”

Rhillian nodded. “Use them more, to free up the Steel. Pay them more, if necessary. Find those sympathetic to our cause to help gather evidence. Make a list of the most troublesome Blackboots.”

“I’d suggest we expand that list to red-coats and administrators, too. Feudalist money has bought powerful friends all through Tracato. I’d suggest a purge.”

Rhillian did not like the way that sounded. And yet, she recalled what she’d only now insisted to Sinidane, of the lessons she’d learned in Petrodor, and the hardening of her heart. “Yes,” she agreed. “Find me names first, and we’ll move from there.”

“What of the priesthood?”

“What of them?”

“Who do you think has been paying for all their holy trinkets and Saint Ciala’s Day festivities?”

“Noble gold. I’m not at all certain I can purge the priesthood, Lieutenant. But some nasty gossip could work as well, I’m certainly not above blackmail.”

“No shortage of that,” said Raine, with an evil smile. “I used to be an altar boy.”

“I’m sure you were charming. I’ll also want to meet Kessligh Cronenverdt at the earliest.” That nearly stuck in her throat, but she plunged on regardless. “I imagine he’ll be speaking for the Tol’rhen, in time of crisis, and the Nasi-Keth will be looking to him on military matters.”

“I would,” Raine admitted. “But I doubt he’ll speak for all the Tol’rhen Ulenshaals. Keeping that lot united is like herding cats.”

“Well I’m quite sure I can’t purge the Tol’rhen,” Rhillian said firmly. “The priesthood at least can be embarrassed, but Ulenshaals have no shame. And I cannot make enemies of the Nasi-Keth. If we lose them, we lose the city.”

“Agreed,” said the lieutenant. He ticked off his fingers. “Justiciars, administrators, city guard, Blackboots, priesthood, Nasi-Keth…who did we miss?”

From back up the hall, there were shouts and cries. Both turned to look, and saw a gathering crowd of cityfolk, some waving colourful banners.

“The factions,” Rhillian answered Raine’s question. “Go to your duties, Lieutenant, I’ll deal with these.”

She walked up the hall to where the intruders were causing the commotion. Justiciary guards stood warily close, hand to their swords. Civid Sein, Rhillian read the Rhodaani scrawl upon their blue banners…such a love of banners through the Rhodaani factions, a colour for every ideology. And there at their front was an ageing, fat Ulenshaal in black robes, in animated discussion with a justiciar.

“Ulenshaal,” said Rhillian. “Are you with these?” With a short nod to the rough-hewn men behind him. They looked too rustic for cityfolk, in truth. Farmers and village people, perhaps. Some held hoes or spades that could surely double as weapons.

“I am,” said the man in a loud, deep voice. “I am Ulenshaal Sevarien. These members of the Civid Sein have come to appeal for justice to the traitors who would sell out Rhodaan to the beasts who threaten our borders!”

“I intend to see justice, Ulenshaal,” Rhillian replied. “Be assured of it. In the meantime, you can demonstrate outside, the people of this institution are busy.”

“It is well known that the institutions of Tracato are crawling with the feudalists’ paid men,” Sevarien bellowed. “As a serrin who does not suffer such impulses of greed, you should know the corrupting influence of wealth on men’s morality and reason. We demand a purge of feudalists from the Justiciary and other institutions. We shall not leave until our demands are heard!”

Rhillian knew the Civid Sein well enough. They were the poor folk of the countryside, distrusting of cityfolk, of wealth, power and nobility. Many idolised neighbouring Enora, and hoped to implement a similar purge of nobility as Enora had done two hundred years before. As always, amidst humanity, there was no commonality. Even now, despite her many years’ experience with humans, she had to remind herself of it. Where serrin shared the vel’ennar, humans felt nothing to bind one to the other, save that which they created in their religion and ideology. And could kill each other on a whim, and feel only justification.

“Your demands have been heard,” Rhillian said sharply. “I hear them, we all hear them. Now leave, before I have you rounded up and thrown in the dungeons.”

Ulenshaal Sevarien drew himself up, bristling. “And how do you propose to do that? We are the people! Should you arrest us all, a hundred times our number shall be on your doorstep by this evening!” Angry, defiant shouts echoed him. Rhillian was aware of justiciary guards closing on her flanks, protectively.

“You listen to me,” she said icily to the big Ulenshaal. Beneath that stare, he paled, just a little. “The feudalists have tried to take control in Tracato, and for that, they shall pay. Now you tell me that you would take control in Tracato, through demands and threats of riot. For that, you shall pay. Now tell me again, do you threaten my authority?”

Somewhere behind her, Lieutenant Raine must have given a signal, for the blades of the justiciary guard came out all at once.

Ulenshaal Sevarien blinked at her. “You wouldn’t dare!” he exclaimed. About the Justiciary hall, all movement, all conversation had stopped. From the entrance, more Steel dharmi came running.

“The voice of the people will be heard,” Rhillian assured him. “You may make an application through the appropriate channels. The arms of the people, however, shall be mute. I have the Steel. Do not try me, or I shall crush you.”

“Sevarien!” yelled a new voice, female and strangely familiar. Rhillian looked, and saw a Nasi-Keth girl, short haired in pants and jacket, walking close. Rhillian stared. “Sevarien, best you leave.”

“Sashandra,” Sevarien retorted, “you don’t understand the gravity…!”

“Rhillian will deal with the feudalists!” came the angry reply. “Don’t pick fights with your friends.”

Sevarien took a deep breath and signalled for his party to withdraw. He may have bowed, or spoken something more, but Rhillian did not notice. She had eyes only for Sashandra. Aisha was with her, and a pair of Nasi-Keth lads Rhillian did not know.

“So,” said Sashandra, as the Civid Sein departed. Her eyes flicked to register the guards’ swords being sheathed, then refocused on Rhillian. They were dark, hard and beautiful. “You command Tracato now?”

“For the moment,” said Rhillian. She recalled Halrhen, and Triana, dead upon the stern of their ship on Petrodor harbour, cut down by Sasha’s blade. Recalled telling Arendele of Triana’s death, upon coming to Tracato. Recalled holding him while he sobbed, and imagining crossing blades once more with the traitor whom she’d once been so foolish as to consider a friend. But humans made poor friends, she’d learned. Kiel had always insisted so-she hadn’t believed him in Petrodor, for softheartedness, for wishful thinking, for misguided philosophies of coexistence between human and serrin. That night, on the ship in Petrodor harbour, had been the final stone on the tomb of her compassion, for this one in particular. “What brings you?”

“I’m here to see my sister.”

“She plots with feudalists,” said Rhillian, icily. “What of you?”

There was even less motion among those surrounding now than before. The very air seemed deadly, frozen with hostility. Svaalverd warrior that she was, Rhillian could read posture like a book. Before her stood one of the very best, feet barely a half-breadth from the opening tana stance, hands free, muscles tense with expectation. One twitch could see a blade in her hand. Another could kill any within reach. Her own stance, Rhillian realised, was barely different.

“She probably does plot with feudalists,” Sasha admitted, her voice hard. “She’s a naive fool with no clue how they would use her, despite my warnings. But I won’t let you hurt my sister.”

“You will submit to the law,” said Rhillian. “The law is not in my hands.”

“But it will be,” said Sashandra, with certainty. “Just as in Petrodor, when the diversity is removed, there’s only one faction left in power. Be it yours, or be it someone else’s, the result is the same.”