Petrodor: A Trial of Blood and Steel, Book 2 (33 page)

“That's because you're superstitious,” Kessligh said unhelpfully, having barely flinched.

“And,” Sasha resumed her train of thought, “dockfront labourers are Verenthanes too. They'd not harm a priest, and would probably protect him from any outsiders who sought to do so.”

Kessligh thought about it for a moment as the boat rocked and heavy boots thumped overhead, and the rain fell even harder. It seemed suddenly absurd—the two of them sitting here plotting such grand things. Two little people, alone in a boat in a storm. They could be struck down by a lightning bolt at any moment. And yet they sat, and plotted, as if they thought to change the fate of the entire city. And many things beyond.

Kessligh's lips twisted, a humourless grimace. He kicked lightly at the bench alongside where Sasha sat. “I'm sorry I dragged you into all this,” he said then. And met her gaze, sombrely.

Sasha stared back. “No, you're not.” And then, as the portent of his words struck her, “No, you're not…gods! Don't say that! You said it yourself, all my life has been leading up to this, in one way or another! Don't you dare tell me I've wasted it!”

“I didn't mean it like that,” Kessligh said simply. “I'm just…” He sighed and shook his head faintly. “I'm just sorry, that's all.”

“There's a lot of things in the world to be sorry about,” Sasha retorted, somewhat disturbed by this uncharacteristic display of uncertainty from her uman. “It changes nothing.”

“On some big matters,” said Kessligh, businesslike once more, “the archbishop's council will be sought. Exactly how he arrives at his decisions is a guarded secret. Rumour has it that there is a vote of some kind, amongst the brotherhood. Other rumours say the archbishop decides alone, or waits for signs from the gods.”

“Like lightning strikes,” Sasha muttered, glancing toward the hold door.

“Exactly. Killing priests could be a precursor to something. A big decision. If we knew what that decision was going to be, perhaps in exchange for the protection of a few priests, it could be worth a lot.”

Sasha nodded. But, “You still don't sound very certain.”

“I'm not. Suspicion is wise, Sasha, when everyone's trying to kill you. Who will you take with you? I cannot offer anyone, our numbers are too small now as it is. Time spent on missions for the Nasi-Keth is time away from work and livelihoods.”

“I'd thought maybe Errollyn,” Sasha admitted. “But I've been told he's away. Saalshen's been spread even thinner than we have. Rhillian tries to watch everyone and trusts few other sources of information these days.”

Kessligh nodded. “Take whoever you can find. When did Father Portus say?”

“Tomorrow.”

Sasha climbed a paved path at the foot of the incline. The rain was light now and rays of sunlight speared orange through broken black cloud. Recalling the directions she'd been given, she turned left into a narrow alley overgrown with thick tree roots and knocked on a door.

“Who is it?” came the call from inside—a woman's voice.

“A friend of Yulia's!”

The door opened readily enough—once upon a time, folks in these parts had been too scared to open doors to strangers, but that had changed as the Nasi-Keth's power had grown and law came to the streets. The people's law, not the families’. A woman peered out at her suspiciously. Sasha adjusted her hat, now wet with rain. “Nasi-Keth,” the woman snorted. “What do you want?”

“To speak to Yulia,” said Sasha, attempting patience.

“Yulia doesn't speak to Nasi-Keth any longer!” the woman snapped. “Go away!”

Sasha put a hand on the door to stop it from closing. “Are you her mother?”

“I'm her aunt, and I'm telling you to go away!”

“That's not your decision,” Sasha said firmly.

“What are you going to do?” the woman shouted in anger. “How dare you come here and tell me what should happen to this family? Who do you think you are, you damn Nasi-Keth, pushing people about—”

Sasha lost patience and pushed past her, into the dingy room. The woman grabbed her arm, but Sasha twisted free and shoved her hard at a wall, one hand hovering warningly near a knife.

“Thief!” the woman shrieked. “Help me! Somebody help me, I'm being attacked!”

“Would you just shut up?” Sasha said incredulously. “There's rules here, not even family can intervene on Nasi-Keth business.”

“It's you, isn't it?” The woman jabbed a finger at her. She wore a scarf over her hair, as did many Petrodor women, and her dress was plain and brown. Her eyes were squinted with hard lines. “You're that scabby Lenay bitch, the one who got our Yulia in all that trouble!”

Sasha wondered if it would be bad etiquette to remove the hag's head from her shoulders in her own house. “Yulia!” she called instead. “Are you here?”

Already there were footsteps overhead and shouts from outside. A girl of perhaps ten summers arrived on the stairs and a baby started squalling. Sasha glanced about the room, it was typically spartan, a paved floor and brick walls, a bare bench for a table and a few chairs.

“Why don't you just get out of here!” the woman shouted. “We're honest Verenthane folk here, we don't need your pagan type!” Several men appeared in the doorway, one was holding a chopping axe.

“What's going on here? You, what's your business?”

“I'm Nasi-Keth,” said Sasha, trying to keep her temper even. “I want only to speak to Yulia, as is a Nasi-Keth's right. Her aunt tried to stop me, and now calls me names.”

“Right enough she'll call you names,” said the man with the axe, dangerously, stepping in through the door. “You're standing in her house!” He was bald and bearded, with thick forearms and a rough manner. Perhaps he might have intimidated other people, but Sasha had grown up in Lenayin and had seen plenty of men more scary than this. Perhaps the contempt showed in her eyes, for the man seemed suddenly wary and did not advance.

“You've no right, Rena,” said the second man, also bald, but fat and somehow intelligent-looking. “Nasi-Keth are a family unto themselves, that's the rule. You can't keep her out if she wants to see Yulia.”

“I'm sick of the Nasi-Keth!” shouted Aunt Rena, hands waving. “They cause nothing but trouble! We used to live like good, honest Verenthanes until they came along! Everything was better then, we didn't have all these demon serrin telling us what to do!”

“Don't you say that,” retorted the fat man, edging in front of the man with the axe, as yet others gathered in the doorway behind. Why was it that
everything in Petrodor became a drama, Sasha wondered. “I lost five brothers and sisters to the water sickness, and my father was a half-cripple who could barely use his legs until the serrin fixed him! When he was dying, I walked in and saw him on his deathbed, surrounded by healthy grandchildren. He died with a smile on his face, and hopefully so will we, and I thank the serrin and the Nasi-Keth for that, Rena. And so should you.”

“Yes, yes, all right!” Rena retorted. “That's all well and good, but it's not right, these other things they ask! It's not natural!”

“Who are you to say what's natural? The families think it natural that we slave for them like dogs for no pay, and lose our heads to the sword should we dare to complain of it! The gods cursed you with a short memory, Rena—I remember my father's stories well.”

Sasha turned to the stairs as the argument continued at high volume, and found Yulia standing behind the younger girl. She looked pale, Sasha thought. Pale and drawn. Sasha walked to her, remembering her hat suddenly, and took it off as was the custom indoors.

“Hello,” she said to the younger girl. “Are you Yulia's cousin?” The girl nodded. Yulia's mother was sickly and her father dead, Sasha had learned some time ago. Yulia lived with her father's sister and, rather than burden the family with another girl, she'd chosen the Nasi-Keth. Yulia had never told Sasha how that decision had been received amongst her family. Somehow, this reception did not surprise her.

“She's Marli,” said Yulia, meaning the cousin. “What do you want?”

“To talk,” said Sasha. “Can we go upstairs?”

Yulia nodded mutely. They ascended and came into an untidy upper floor. There were a number of beds, and no privacy or separate rooms. A wooden trunk for clothes, some half-repaired linen, and washed clothes drying on racks. In one corner, the baby's cries came loud from its crib, a simple wooden box on a small table. She counted seven beds…eight, if one included the baby, and there was barely enough space between the clutter to walk.

She'd seen poverty in Lenayin, but never with this overcrowding. In Lenayin, there was plenty of space. If a family grew, one built a new room, or an entire new house.

Cousin Marli went to the baby and gathered it up. Yulia sat on a bed by a window.

“I haven't seen you at training,” Sasha remarked.

Yulia shrugged, cross-legged and fidgeting. “I haven't been.”

“You're giving up?” Sasha asked with a frown.

“Not on the Nasi-Keth, no.” More fidgeting. She wore a plain dress, such as ordinary Petrodor girls might wear. Even in the Nasi-Keth, some people
frowned on girls in pants. “I just thought maybe I'd do better studying medicines. Like Fara.”

“You thought? Or your aunt thought?”

Yulia looked up, and there was desperation in her eyes. “I have nightmares. About Riverside. Do you have nightmares?”

Sasha wanted to tell her yes, that she understood. But that would be lying, and lying was dishonourable. She'd lied before, on occasion, when need had required it. But lately, her Lenay honour had seemed even more precious than usual. “No,” she said.

“Liam was right,” said Yulia. “You were born a warrior. I wasn't.”

“Liam,” Sasha said sharply, “now insists that I'm not a warrior either.”

Yulia shrugged and resumed fidgeting. “I heard. Liam is upset that Rodery died.”

“It's no excuse.” Sasha was still angry. She knew herself to be a basically good person, if a little hot-tempered and self-centred. She angered easily, but she did not hate easily and was always quick to forgive. But something about what Liam had done still made her fume. Such things, one expected of an enemy. But of a friend, or one who had called himself a friend…it was betrayal. Dishonour. A Lenay warrior did not go against his word or his friends. A Lenay warrior would rather die. Liam, it was clear, was no Lenay warrior. Even now, he did not appear to believe that he'd done anything wrong. Worse, many Nasi-Keth appeared to agree.

Honour, Rhillian had said, means different things to different people. My wise friend Rhillian, Sasha thought sourly. You may yet be proven right.

“I…I think maybe Liam's right in other things too,” Yulia said quietly. “I…I panicked. I lost my sword. Rodery and Liam had to protect me. If…If I hadn't lost my sword, maybe Rodery wouldn't be…”

“Or maybe he would,” said Sasha. “Or maybe Liam would be, or you would be. I don't claim to be the most hardened veteran of war, but I've seen my share of battles. There's just no predicting it, Yulia. Yes, Rodery and Liam had to protect you once you'd lost your blade…but then, they're supposed to. As you're supposed to protect them, should they lose theirs. Yes, you panicked. It happens to all kinds of warriors. Many survive and go on to become great regardless. They learn from their mistakes and improve. They don't just quit, Yulia.”

“Sasha, I'm not very good, all right!” There was temper in her tone now and tears in her eyes. Across the room, the baby's wails had lessened somewhat. Cousin Marli watched on, wide-eyed, rocking the baby. Privacy would be too much to expect, Sasha knew, and didn't bother to ask. “Even at training, I…I only started going that regularly because of you!”

“Don't you try and pin this on me,” Sasha said warningly. “Your actions and your choices are your own, that's the first thing your uman told you.”

“No, I…I didn't mean it like that.” Yulia shook her head. “I just meant that…gods, Sasha, look around.” Sasha did, reluctantly. Downstairs, she could hear the continuing argument through the floorboards. “Do you see why I wanted to be Nasi-Keth? I wanted more, Sasha. More than this. And no one ever rises to great prominence within the Nasi-Keth without some talent in the svaalverd. I wanted to work on it more, but the boys always teased me, and some of the girls too, but then you came along. A human girl, and Kessligh's uma, and you're good! Staggeringly good. Men here couldn't believe it—trust me, I heard what they said when you weren't around. They were shocked. But about half came to accept it, and that gave me hope. Half is enough, for some respect at least.

“So I went to training more regularly. I practised a lot even before, but always on my own…and it's not the same. I can look good in training, sometimes. Better than I actually am, I think. Maybe that's why I was picked to go on the mission to Riverside. Kessligh was short of fighters and people thought I was better than I am.”

“What does your uman say?”

“She…” Yulia sighed, hanging her head. “She didn't approve. I didn't see her as much after I started attending training more. It's not for girls, she said. I pointed to you and she just snorted. She'd rather I studied and learned to teach children. It's good work, but…”