Sasha stared at her. To either side of the winged god's legs there was clear space until the next statue. Sasha stepped left, and Rhillian came across to block her. Still Rhillian did not raise her blade. Sasha moved right, and again Rhillian blocked her path. Somewhere in the dark beyond, serrin were hauling Errollyn, probably unconscious, out onto the dock. Sasha braced herself to feint one way and dash past the other…but that was bare steel in Rhillian's hand. She might dodge Rhillian's grasp, but not her blade. If Rhillian swung, she would have to swing back. Very few svaalverd exchanges ended in disengagement. If strokes were exchanged, most likely one of them would die.
“Damn you, Rhillian!” Sasha shouted. She was trembling. She couldn't do it. She was leaving Errollyn to his fate.
“He is dangerous to us, Sasha,” said Rhillian. “He knows so much about us. The workings of the councils, the likely actions of various people, even the composition of the armies of the Saalshen Bacosh. He has made clear that we cannot trust him. And so, he must be removed.”
“He's with the Nasi-Keth, Rhillian! You think we're the enemies of Saalshen now?”
“We have relied on others for our defences. No longer. The line has been drawn. If Saalshen needs something done, we do it ourselves. The actions of others have disappointed.”
“Horseshit!” Sasha retorted. “Your actions, your choice, Rhillian. Always.”
“We have no choice,” Rhillian said shortly.
“No! You chose!” Sasha levelled her blade furiously. “You could have worked with Kessligh, but you thought you knew better! You could have listened to Errollyn, but you thought you knew better! Now, you make another mistake! Your record is not very good, Rhillian! Don't you think perhaps a wise serrin might learn from this pattern?”
“I can't let you pass,” Rhillian said softly. “I'm sorry, Sasha. You do not understand.”
“That's not a reason, that's an excuse. A childish one at that. As well I might excuse the actions of King Leyvaan, or Patachi Steiner, as a matter of understanding.”
“If you cannot see the difference between my actions and theirs,” Rhillian said, “then truly you are lost.”
In utter frustration, Sasha put her blade on the ground and walked forward. Rhillian tensed, but did not move. Sasha stopped before her, head tilted back to look the taller woman in the eyes. Rhillian's gleaming eyes were narrowed and cautious. For a brief moment, Sasha felt the overwhelming urge to strike her, bare-fisted. Rhillian held her blade off to one side. One swing would end it, and sudden movements on Sasha's part were probably not wise.
“Rhillian, what happened to you?” Sasha touched Rhillian's pale cheek. Rhillian flinched back. Serrin never did that. It was the reaction of the frightened, or the traumatised. The emerald eyes were haunted, distant. “Rhillian…I've seen horrors too. Wars are horrible. People die in their hundreds. You can't…you can't just dismiss an entire species because of one such incident…”
“I saw the thing that will destroy my people,” Rhillian said. “I saw the hatred. I saw…I saw the truth that will accept no other truth. I saw the death of reason, the death of debate, the blind rule of singularity, as all humans pursue their own singularity. Even you.”
“You're wrong.”
“You can't reason with the unreasonable, Sasha,” Rhillian said, this time in Lenay. She looked older, there was a hollowness to her cheeks. “That is the nature of the unreasonable. We tried reason. We've tried it for a long time. Look where it got us.”
“And you think being unreasonable will be an improvement?”
“I don't care if they think me unreasonable. I want them to fear me.”
“I don't fear you,” Sasha said quietly.
“You should.” For the first time, emotion struggled in Rhillian's eyes.
“And should I grow to fear you, and even to hate you, will you then consider your work a great success?”
The cold facade nearly cracked. Rhillian caught it just in time. And struggled, her eyes moist. “If it must be.”
“You know I'm a bad enemy to have, Rhillian. Best that you kill me now.”
A tear spilled down Rhillian's cheek. “You know I won't.”
“Then I'll never fear you, and you'll have failed.”
Rhillian nearly smiled. Her lips twisted faintly. She took a deep, trembling breath. “You're impossible.” She leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead. “Goodbye, Sasha. Farewell. Try to understand.”
Sasha embraced her. Rhillian returned it, one-armed, leaving her sword-arm free. “If you hurt him,” Sasha said fiercely against Rhillian's shoulder, “I'll kill you.”
“I know,” said Rhillian. “You won't need to, I promise.”
“Don't think for a moment this is over.”
“Nothing is ever over, Sasha,” Rhillian said sadly. “Endings are only the beginnings of something else.”
It was only after Rhillian had departed into the dark that Sasha realised she did not know where the Shereldin Star was.
Patachi Maerler awoke to the realisation that he was not alone in his chambers. A silver blade reached nearly to the tip of his chin, gleaming in the dim light from beyond the high chamber windows. The hand about the hilt was gloved in black. Above a silken handkerchief, emerald eyes shone bright in the darkness.
At first, Alron Maerler thought he must be dreaming. These were the things of nightmares, the ghost stories about the demons of Saalshen and their ability to walk through walls. Alron knew the defences of Maerler House, and knew that it was impossible for any intruder to sneak through with nary a sound. And yet, here she was.
Alron's sleep vanished in a rush of fright.
“M'Lady Rhillian,” Alron ventured. “You look displeased.” From his side came a soft stirring.
“If she screams, you die,” said the serrin, cold and hard. The girl in Alron's bed turned over, blinking sleepily from beneath the covers…and her eyes widened. Alron's hand clamped hard over her mouth, stifling the scream.
“Do not speak, do not move, do not think,” Alron told her firmly. “Understand?” The girl only stared. “Understand!” Finally a terrified nod. Alron removed his hand slowly and propped himself on his pillow as the sword retreated a fraction. Some fools refused even now to recognise the martial skills of serrin women.
He stroked his long, brown hair back into place and made a smile at the demon-lady. It had worked so often before on ladies of all kinds. This particular demon-lady had seemed somewhat affected on previous visits. He saw no reason why he could not reverse this situation also.
“M'Lady Rhillian,” he said, fluffing a lacy sleeve cuff languidly. “An unexpected pleasure. Pray tell me, what takes your fancy on this lovely evening?”
“You betrayed me,” she said. From her posture, and the angle of her sword, it seemed to Alron Maerler that this one would be a little more difficult to charm than most.
“Betrayed?” He gave her an astonished, hurt look. “Surely not. We had an arrangement of convenience, dear lady, nothing more.” The blade moved; a slow, deliberate shift of weight. At Alron's side, the girl whimpered. “Quiet, fool,” he told her. She was the daughter of a cousin of Patachi Haldera, nothing of great significance. And now it was her misfortune to hear everything that was about to be said. Such words could not be allowed to spread. Surely Cousin Taberi could think of a…quiet solution. Delicate, unlike the head-chopping heathens of the north slope. A drop of silverleaf in the soup, perhaps. Or a nasty fall down the stairs.
“We had an agreement,” said the she-demon. “We were on the same side.”
Alron nearly laughed. He bit it off in time, and struggled for a moment to contain his mirth. “Please,” he finally managed, “you must understand my position. I can only fight the fights that I can win. I assure you, it pains me to see that horrid buffoon Steiner gain command of the Army of Torovan, and with the archbishop's blessing at that. The coming years shall be dark indeed for my house, as we shall be forced to pay obeisance to uncultured heathens at every turn. House Steiner's power in Petrodor shall grow, and there shall be very little I or my allies can do about it…” he shrugged, “I have struggled very hard to prevent such an eventuality.
“And yet, here we are. The archbishop beseeches the people to make war on Saalshen, and I cannot very well go against the archbishop, can I? He says the serrin are the enemy, he makes the believers of Petrodor and Torovan believe the serrin are the enemy…should I sacrifice my house, my family and partners in trade for Saalshen? Would you sacrifice Saalshen for me and mine? I think not.”
“They say in Petrodor, it is death to break a deal.”
“My Lady,” Alron said with exasperation, “you are not being reasonable. House Maerler required an alliance with Saalshen in the short term because, although it pains me to admit it, the southern stack is a lesser stack than the northern one. Then, that alliance served some useful purpose. Now, it simply cannot be. I am very sorry that you feel betrayed, but…” again, he shrugged, “this is Petrodor, my Lady. The archbishop was nicely contained until he and some other assorted thugs of Steiner's started murdering the counterbalancing priests, and so he comes to this, the incitement of the crazed and desperate masses. You have suffered their wrath, my Lady, and I am sorry for it. Surely you could not expect me to volunteer for the same fate?”
It seemed that the serrin actually smiled beneath her silken handkerchief. Her snow-white hair was covered too, leaving only the green eyes visible, hovering in the dark.
“Fear not, dear Alron,” she said. “All is not lost.” She reached into a hidden pocket and withdrew a gleaming, golden object. Tossed it to him. A weight landed on Alron's middle. He looked with a frown…and his eyes widened. It couldn't be. “It is yours now,” she said mildly. “You can do with it as you please. Should you proclaim to lead the Army of Torovan to replace the star in the Enoran High Temple yourself, I am sure that many would follow.”
“You utter fool,” Alron breathed. He did not reach for or touch the golden object. He wished to, but his hands refused to move. “What have you done?”