Haven: A Trial of Blood and Steel Book Four

by Shepherd, Joel

  “Go very slowly,” Sasha warned him. “Accountancy was never my strong point.”

  Tershin leaned forward on the table. His old hands were firm in their gesticulation, and his eyes as intent as those of a much younger man. “The Meraini pay for their trade with Ilduur in talons. Some even use our marks, but of course, trade with any member of the Saalshen Bacosh is supposed to be prohibited….”

  “The priesthood would have an offender killed,” said Sasha, understanding that much.

  “So, the Meraini learn to be discreet,” Tershin agreed. “They have traded with Ilduur for many centuries, Maldereld's arrival here did not stop it, and the Meraini priesthood keep silent because they receive a tribute.”

  “A cut,” Sasha translated.

  “Just so. Talons are received and used to purchase Ilduuri goods. Merchants selling those goods accumulate talons, but many of those who sell to Meraine do not buy from Meraine. They will trade talons for marks, with those that do. There is a market price for trade between talons and marks. Too many talons, and the price falls. They're easy to acquire, do you see?”

  Sasha nodded. She wasn't quite that slow.

  “Too few, and the price rises. Now, a sum of ten thousand talons is quite large. So I went to see the men who fix the price of trade. To my astonishment, the price had plummeted, a full fifteen talons for each mark. Typically the price is four or five to a mark. The most I have ever seen it is nine or ten to the mark, and I have lived and worked in Andal for thirty years.”

  “Andal is flooded with Meraini talons,” Sasha said slowly. Tershin nodded, with great meaning. “Trade has been good lately?”

  “Not that good.”

  “So someone in the Remischtuul is receiving wagonloads of talons from Meraine, and paying them out to the guilds.”

  “It would seem the only answer.”

  “To gain their loyalty?”

  “Their silence,” Tershin said grimly. “And those young men that you assaulted, I fear, were sent to me by the Stamentaast, as a reminder to me to keep my mouth shut. The Stamentaast knows all those who work within the trade. Lately, several of those setting the trade of talons and marks have disappeared. Yesterday, a new price was announced. Seven talons to the mark.”

  “They're fixing the price?”

  “Yes, while the black market is now offering a price of eighteen. The Stamentaast chase the black-marketeers, and the number of disappearances grows larger.”

  Sasha exhaled hard. “By helping you, I seem to have put you in greater danger. It's a bad habit of mine, I apologise.”

  Tershin smiled. “There is no need. Indeed, you seem to have offered a solution to my problem.” Sasha raised her eyebrows. “The Meraini will not send wagonloads of talons through the mountain passes unaccompanied—Ilduur is relatively peaceful and law abiding, but there are watchful eyes, loose tongues, and common criminals here as anywhere else. Such a large sum, as tribute to the Remischtuul members, will come accompanied by a senior person of Meraine.”

  “An ambassador,” Sasha agreed, thinking furiously. “A close relative to the Chansul of Meraine himself, I'd guess. Perhaps a brother.”

  “Yes, but he dare not enter Andal publicly,” Tershin reminded her. “The Remischtuul declares that all foreigners are equally evil. To be acting upon the bribes of the Meraini, in planning for future allegiance and a common front against the Regent in the new Bacosh, would seem hypocritical.”

  Sasha smiled darkly. “We must find this ambassador. If I were to throw him at the feet of the Ilduuri Steel, their attitude toward the Remischtuul might change.”

  “Getting this ambassador may not be easy.”

  Sasha shrugged. “I don't need all of him. His head will do.”

  S huen Vaal meant “Steel Town” in Ilduuri, meaning that its residents were mostly soldiers, or ex-soldiers, and their families. Battalion banners and pennants decorated windows and walls, streets were named after battles and markets featured military gear—boots, shovels, ropes, everything a soldier might prefer from regulation Steel kit. Bergen was delighted, and stopped to enquire about weapons in his fluent Ilduuri. The shopkeeper beckoned him to a rear room, and pulled some swords from a locked chest—the Steel issued regulation swords, but were sometimes slow to replace old or damaged ones, and some men preferred a different weight or grip, depending on the tolerance of their immediate commanders.

  Sasha had to drag Bergen on, for the afternoon was late, and the Andal Valley shadows creeping in on the city.

  “Ridiculous that weapons cannot be sold freely,” she muttered. “Soon the Remischtuul will forbid people the use of their own fists.” She hated more than ever being unarmed, though she did feel safer amongst so many soldiers in civilian clothes. The Stamentaast had few friends here, and those she'd seen moved in larger groups and were not so bold as to stop and question anyone they pleased.

  Yasmyn had not been pleased to be told to remain at Father Belgride's temple, but there was no choice—serrin in Andal were common enough, and all the others save Yasmyn could pass as Ilduuri, but Yasmyn's eyes gave her away. Rhillian and Aisha were still at their meetings, and Kiel and Arendelle likewise on some other lead, so this task had fallen to her and Bergen.

  At the market stall Tershin had told them of, Bergen asked for Haast, Master of the Steelwrights' Guild. The stall owner sent his daughter running, and they waited, browsing over good knives on display and some axes, hammers, and other tools. They did not have to wait long. Sasha noticed the men before Bergen, four of them, all with the build and walk of warriors, however plain their clothes. She nudged Bergen, who picked up the axe he was examining. Sasha took a knife and gave it a clever twirl. The men stopped, save one who came forward.

  That man demanded something in Ilduuri, and Sasha heard the name of Haast once more. Bergen answered, and Sasha heard the name “Tershin” in his reply.

  The men beckoned for them to follow. “They're Steel,” Bergen murmured to Sasha as they followed, two men before them, two more behind.

  “They said that?”

  “They just look it,” said Bergen. It was the Steel's part of town, and Sasha reckoned if anyone would know, Bergen would.

  They were led to some stairs up the side of a building, like a single, vast house, but with narrow stairways about the walls and across odd angles leading to living quarters on different floors. These stairs led to a common balcony, then up again to the attic atop the building.

  Within was a living space, a kitchen built around the common stone chimney that rose through all the floors below. Two women prepared food, while another nursed an infant. Two older children played with wooden toys. Spread across a wall, Sasha saw a battalion pennant. Upon a high cabinet, out of reach of children, a long sword.

  The men ushered them onto the balcony. Upon the nearby lake edge rose rows of smoke stacks, some belching black soot. Furnaces, she realised. This was the steelwright's district, after all. And those furnaces made serrin steel, an art unknown outside of Saalshen and the Saalshen Bacosh.

  The leader of the Ilduuri men introduced himself. Arken, Sasha thought she caught his name.

  “This is Sasha,” Bergen replied in Saalsi, “and I am Bergen.” The men frowned. Arken looked suspiciously at Sasha, clearly suspecting that she was the reason for the shift in tongues.

  “Tershin sent you?” Arken asked, also in Saalsi.

  “He did,” said Bergen. “On the trail of too many Meraini talons.”

  The men's eyes widened. They exchanged glances. “You're from the north?” one asked, trying to place Bergen's accent.

  “I am,” said Bergen. “I saw that one of the pennants on your wall was of the Second Battalion of the Enoran Steel.”

  Arken folded his arms. “You have the look yourself. Infantry?”

  “Cavalry.”

  “Which unit?”

  “First Company. Enoran Cavalry.”

  The men's eyes widened. “Ah,” said Arken. “That far north. Your accen
t is good.”

  “I've served with Ilduuri units,” said Bergen. “And there were Ilduuri merchants in my home town. Several are friends.”

  “I've served in Enora,” said another man. “Our commanders used to send small Ilduuri units to Enora to gain experience. Enora has been attacked far more than Ilduur over the years. But our commanders stopped the practice last year.”

  “Or rather, the Remischtuul replaced our commanders,” Arken said bitterly. “Our good ones, anyhow.”

  “We heard,” said Bergen. “Though we did not think it so serious.”

  Arken considered him for a moment. “You took some risk coming here, friend,” he said. “You've seen the men hanging in the squares?”

  “They're only the beginning of it,” said another, bitterly. “Others have disappeared. They're not coming after the Steel yet, because they are afraid of making us angry. But give it time.”

  “You seem angry enough already,” Bergen observed. “Yet the Ilduuri Steel remain silent, while the Rhodaani and Enoran Steel fight for their lives.”

  “There are not enough of us,” Arken muttered. “The Remischtuul have removed many of our senior commanders. Nasi-Keth replace them. A few have battle experience, but most only know svaalverd. Most Nasi-Keth are loyal to the Remischtuul.”

  “I've seen,” Bergen agreed. “What of your most senior officer? General Daani?”

  “He does nothing. He does not speak to his men, and the men grow alarmed. We do not know what his opinion is. Some say we should wait until General Daani acts, and others say we should force his hand. Daani has always been a friend to Saalshen, Enora, and Rhodaan in the past.”

  “A false hope,” said another man. “If Daani were on our side he would have acted already. He leaves it far too late.”

  “The stall owner said that you are Haast's son?” Bergen pressed.

  “My name is Arken Haast.” Arken, Sasha could not help but notice, was very handsome—blond, square-jawed, blue-eyed, and built more like a Lenay warrior than a lowlander. “It seems that Tershin sent you looking for my father, Taaner Haast. He is Master of the Steelwright's Guild. He works in the furnaces there.” He pointed to the smokestacks by the lake.

  “And you will succeed him when you leave the Steel?”

  Arken shrugged. “Perhaps. But if the Regent Arrosh defeats our northern brothers, Ilduur may not survive that long.”

  Bergen looked at Sasha, perhaps wondering why she remained silent. Sasha found it useful to see how men behaved first with men, before introducing a woman into the mix. Perhaps she was maturing, finally. A few months back, she could not have found the patience.

  “And as Master of the Steelwrights' Guild,” Bergen asked, “your father has a seat on the Remischtuul?”

  Arken nodded, cautiously. “He is just one man, of a hundred and thirty-five seats. But Tershin keeps the Guild's books, and father told me he'd noticed the Remischtuul's payments in talons.”

  “From where does the money come, do you think?”

  “There's a Meraini company in town, isn't there?” one of the others said darkly. “With wagon loads of Meraini coin.” There were sullen nods from all present. And burning anger.

  “Ilduur has not declared itself neutral,” Arken stated. “It has been bought, by the Chansul of Meraine.”

  “Is that it over there?” Sasha asked, pointing across the rooftops. “Is that the Remischtuul?” There was a grand building at the base of the valley slope, overlooking the city. Huge and wide, it looked like a palace, yet too large and new for some feudal monstrosity. That, and it seemed to have no defensive walls.

  “It is,” said Arken, frowning at her. “Your accent is not Enoran or Rhodaani. Where are you from?”

  “Lenayin,” said Sasha. Men stared at her.

  “Lenayin fights for the Regent,” one observed with menace.

  “Not anymore. I led them to change sides.”

  “I said her name was Sasha,” said Bergen. “Her full name is Sashandra, and you already know her last.”

  Arken grinned. “You're having a joke,” he said to Bergen.

  One of the others scoffed. “Sashandra Lenayin? The warrior princess?”

  “The same,” said Bergen.

  “What did you think I'd look like?” Sasha wondered aloud.

  “You're too small!” another man declared.

  “And Lenayin would never change sides,” said another. “They are barbarians. They love only to fight and care not who they slaughter. To change sides is for them dishonourable.”

  “How odd, Bergen,” Sasha said mildly. “These men claim to know more of my people and myself than I do.”

  “This is Sashandra Lenayin,” Bergen said firmly, “and I warn you not to anger her or she may give you a lesson none of you could survive. She fought with her people against my Enoran brothers at the Shero Valley, where we gave the Lenays a hard-fought loss.”

  “That much news has reached us,” Arken admitted.

  “At Shero Valley, she led her people in a great defection, where perhaps three-quarters of them abandoned the Regent to join us. We were enemies, but in Enora we embraced as brothers. The Verenthanes of the northern Lenay provinces remained with King Koenyg, but the rest followed Sashandra Lenayin, by her action and choice alone.”

  The Ilduuri men were silent. Suspicion battled with hope in their eyes.

  “I am Enoran cavalry,” said Bergen, drawing himself up to his full, considerable height. “I lost friends to the blades of Sashandra Lenayin's comrades at Shero Valley. I swear to you on their graves that I speak the truth.”

  “I also lost friends to Bergen's comrades,” Sasha said solemnly. “Possibly to Bergen himself for all I know. One man who died had been as an uncle to me from since I was a little girl in my home village of Baerlyn. Yet the Enoran Steel fought with courage and skill, and they earned the respect of Lenayin. Later, as we advanced into Rhodaan and then Enora in the wake of the Regent's Army, we saw the devastation left behind, and we began to question.

  “You have heard only half-truths of Lenay honour. Yes, we are loyal, but mostly we follow our code. The code says that there is only honour in the fighting of worthy opponents. We all saw too many dead children upon the road to Shemorane to believe any claim by the Regent to be fighting in honour's name. The Enoran Steel, on the other hand, was judged in battle and found worthy. My people decided on their own, according to their native values. I merely gave them a nudge.”

  “You are Sashandra Lenayin,” Arken said quietly. There was a light now to his eye. Hope, full-fledged and burning. “You have the steel I have only seen in serrin women of the talmaad. So few human women fight. I do not see who else you could be.”

  “Why send you?” another asked. “If the Army of Lenayin follows you, why risk you to come here?”

  “Because if Ilduur does not join this fight, we are all finished. My brother Damon leads well, and my uman Kessligh Cronenverdt even more so.” There were nods at his name, enthusiastic and wide-eyed. Sasha had not quite expected this, but she sensed an opportunity. She had to grasp it. “But I cannot convince Ilduuri to do anything that Ilduuri will not decide to do for themselves, in their own hearts. And that is up to you.”

  “I have little hope for the hearts of most Ilduuris,” said Arken. “Those here in Andal have no interest in the world outside. They have convinced themselves that foreigners are nothing but trouble and do not deserve our sweat and blood. But the Ilduuri Steel are different. We wish to fight, but the Remischtuul has removed all our leaders, and scattered them to the corners of Ilduur.”

  “The Remischtuul will not let us leave,” said another man. “And however much the Steel wish to fight the Regent, they will not fight the Remischtuul, and the Ilduuri people, to be able to do it.”

  “So what would it take?” Sasha asked. “To convince the Steel to ignore the Remischtuul's orders? To defy them?”

  Arken smiled darkly. “Finding this Meraini party would be a good start,�
� he said, seeing the direction that she led them to. “Then presenting their treacherous heads to those of our comrades yet to be convinced. Would you help us?”

  Sasha smiled back. “It would be my pleasure,” she said. “How will we find these Meraini puppet masters?”

  Jaryd tested the strapping on his calf and found it tight. Yet it lessened the pain, which the healer had assured him was nothing worse than torn muscle, and would heal so long as he treated it well.

  He made his way carefully up the stairs from the lakeside, away from the serrin village upon its shores. Forest grew thick, and small cabins nestled amidst the trunks. Serrin wandered about various tasks, or sat on verandahs and talked, as seemed their way. Birds flitted overhead, and their calls echoed high and far across the canopy of leaves.

  These cabins were odd in that they did not seem well suited for any trade or business. In Lenayin, woodsmen would build amongst the trees like this, but out in the wilds and not so close to a village. And even then, they would have adjoining space for leather tanning, or butchery, or woodcrafts, or however such folk made themselves a living. These cabins seemed to have little purpose save leisure, and sitting on verandahs in the tree shade, and listening to birdsong.

  A small stream trickled nearby through the undergrowth as Jaryd limped up the stairs. Suddenly someone arrived at his side, placing his arm about their shoulders to help with the steps. To Jaryd's astonishment, it was a serrin woman, a total stranger, who smiled at him, and took some weight off his bad leg.

  “Thank you,” he told her. “What is your name?”

  The serrin said something in Saalsi, uncomprehending. These were not talmaad, and the woman was unarmed that he could see. If she did not speak Torovan, certainly she would not speak Lenay. For all their linguistic talent, most serrin did not speak human tongues, and devoted their language skills to their own multiple dialects.