“I think it suits you,” said Marya. “Anyone who'd seen you sliding down staircase railings, and chasing terrified little boys with a stick and yelling, would recognise you now.” Sasha laughed self-consciously. “This is the inner you, perhaps. Not many people grow up to become the thing they've always desired. You should be proud.”
From the way Sasha smiled, Marya could tell that she'd pleased her. “And look at you!” she said. “You're looking very…well, motherly.”
“I know,” Marya sighed, placing hands on her hips. “But they feed me so well, and the food's so excellent…”
“Oh, no, no,” Sasha protested. “You look wonderful! Motherliness suits you. I always…I mean, all my memories of you are of you being kind to me. I remember whenever I'd hurt myself, you were always there to clean my scrapes. You were like the mother I never…or rather, almost never had.”
You really never did know mother like I did, Marya thought sadly. You don't know what she suffered. You were too young.
“Oh, Sasha,” Marya said kindly, “I always wanted to tell you-I'm so sorry that I was not around when Krystoff died. It must have been so terrible for you. How lonely you must have felt.”
Sasha gave a small shrug. “It's the fate of Lenay princesses that they be married when their father deems it convenient. How could that be your fault?”
“Even so, when I received the news, I felt so terrible. I cried for days. But mostly, I was thinking of you. I did not know that you would survive.”
The kinship between the heir of Lenayin and his little sister had been cute and lovable in many ways. And yet, Marya recalled an edge to the friendship that others did not. Krystoff had been driven, largely by forces known only to him. He had not understood how others did not share his passions and impulses. Only little Sashandra had understood.
“Did you enjoy growing up with Kessligh in Baerlyn?” Marya ventured.
The younger woman's smile flashed. “I loved it. I finally got to run wild.” She laughed. “But with some discipline too.”
“You did not miss your family at all?”
“Did you?” Sasha countered.
“Oh, of course! But…well, I had a new family. And the Steiners treated me wonderfully from the beginning. Symon is a perfect husband, and I have children of my own now. I was homesick for a while, it's true, and I missed you and Krystoff and the others terribly. But I don't know that I can say I was lonely. I always had company and things to do. I always felt included. This is my home now.”
Sasha sighed. She walked two steps to the small window and gazed through the cracked, clouded glass. “My home is in Baerlyn,” she said. “The townsfolk are my family. And Kessligh. He was the father I never had. He taught me so many things, things I failed to appreciate until recently.”
“And so…” Marya paused, wondering how to put it. “You feel the…the Nasi-Keth are your family now?”
Sasha bit the inside of her lip, thinking as she gazed down on the windswept docks below. “I get tired of all these divisions,” she said finally, and decisively. She met Marya's gaze. “People are always telling me that I have to pick one side or the other. I have loyalties to many sides. I won't pretend that I love all my family, but I certainly love Sofy…and Damon too, I think. I love Kessligh. I love Baerlyn and the ancient ways of Lenayin. And I love the serrin too. The serrin believe that this human instinct to pick one side and fight all the others is the cause of all humanity's troubles. I think I agree with them.”
“Have you spoken to Alythia since she's arrived?” Marya ventured, knowing the answer in advance, but…
Sasha gave a short laugh. “I'd get a more friendly response from one of the sea lions on Alaster Promontory, I'm quite sure.”
“Have you tried?”
“I ruined her wedding, Marya. Surely you heard?”
“Well yes, but…” Marya wrung her hands in exasperation. “Oh, it's so frustrating, Sasha! I mean look at us! Three sisters, all together in the one city. Surely this is fate, to bring us all together so!”
“Tempting fate, maybe,” Sasha said, warily eyeing the Verenthane medallion about Marya's neck.
“You don't believe in fate?” Marya asked sadly.
“There's many old notions I no longer believe in,” Sasha replied. “And many others I'm starting to. Fate's not high amongst them.”
“Wouldn't it be nice if we could all be a family again?” Marya persisted. “I'm not entirely naive, I do know that Petrodor can be a…a cold and cruel place at times. But Sasha, it's exactly in such places that the bonds of family matter so much! And I'd so love for you to meet your other nephews and nieces…”
Sasha looked at the ground. “I'd like that too,” she said quietly. “But with things as they are, I don't know how welcome I'd be.”
“Sasha.” Marya placed a gentle hand on her sister's shoulder. “Family is important to everyone in Petrodor. If you came to House Steiner with an open heart, you would be entirely safe there. Whoever your friends, and whoever your uman.”
“Safe like Randel Ragini was safe?” said Sasha sombrely.
Marya blinked at her. “Randel? Sasha, Randel was killed in an accident…they happen all the time during the Endurance, I've been warning people about it for years, but do they listen to a woman? Of course not.”
“Your father-in-law ordered Randel Ragini killed,” said Sasha. Marya blinked again. Sasha's gaze was direct, searching, as if studying her response.
“And who told you that?” said Marya, unperturbed.
“People who know.”
“Look, Sasha.” Marya put her other hand on Sasha's shoulders too. “Petrodor is full of rumours. People say nasty things, about Patachi Steiner most of all. I know him quite well. I won't pretend that he's the gentlest, kindest man in Petrodor, but believe me when I tell you this one thing-he's not half of what his enemies say he is. Not a quarter, even.”
“He killed Randel because he suspected Randel, and possibly Patachi Ragini, were dealing with the serrin,” Sasha continued, equally unperturbed. “My sources say the priesthood were possibly involved, they're the ones most upset by senior Petrodor families dealing with the pagan serrin. Randel collected serrin artworks, including some the holy fathers found blasphemous…”
“Sasha,” Marya said sternly, “you've been listening to men with evil tongues, the holy fathers do not go around ordering people killed!”
“Seriously, Marya,” Sasha said tiredly, with the air of a woman suddenly twice her age. “Your father-in-law is building an army to go and fight a war entirely on the behest of the priesthood. It will assuredly kill many, many thousands of people. The priesthood don't order people killed? Do you honestly believe that?”
Marya stared at her for a moment. Gods, how she hated politics. She half spun, a hand to her forehead. Then spun back. “And is that truly why you smuggled a message to meet me here today?” she asked, woundedly. “I mean…seriously, Sasha, what do you want from me?”
“And do you think Symon Steiner would risk his wife and his heir to meet with his sworn enemy in a darkened hut if he didn't see some kind of advantage in it?” Sasha replied. “Or if Patachi Steiner didn't? Marya, we're both being used. People on both sides are looking for some advantage, and perhaps some information.” She stepped forward and took Marya's hands gently. Her eyes were earnest. “I came because I desperately wanted an excuse to see my sister again. This was the first and best excuse I've had. But also, I wanted to tell you what I know. You don't have to believe me…it's hard, I know. But I wanted you to think about what I've told you. That's all. What you choose to do about it…well, that's none of my business.”
“Sasha,” Marya said quietly, “don't pick a fight with Patachi Steiner. Please.”
Sasha's eyes narrowed, head cocked to one side. Fearless, Marya saw despairingly. Of physical danger, at least. This, too, confirmed the memories of the little girl she'd known. “I thought you said he was a good man?”
“Amongst a good man's many duties are the elimination of his enemies,” said Marya, sombrely.
Sasha's gaze was long and level. Studying her.
“Patachi Steiner wants this war,” she replied, finally. “If it concerns you, tell him to stop.”
“Sasha, I'm his daughter-in-law,” said Marya, reproachfully. “I can do no such thing.”
Sasha shrugged. “Then there's not much I can do.”
“You would truly fight?” Marya pressed, with desperation. “Against your own flesh and blood?”
“He's not my flesh and blood,” Sasha said coolly. “You are.”
Dear lords, Marya thought helplessly. She doesn't understand a thing. “Krystoff is too,” she tried. “He's old enough to wield a proper blade in training. He's very good.”