Sasha was forking hay in the barn behind the stables when there came a new thunder of hooves from outside. At first, she barely noticed—Andreyis had been practising his cavalry moves on the white-socked mare, Rassy, and this sounded like just another pass. Then the hooves came again, only this time she could hear two horses, one lighter than the other.
She looked down from her high bale as a little dussieh rode straight into the barn, ridden by a smallish Goeren-yai man she did not recognise. Andreyis arrived as well and dismounted at the barn's entrance.
“M'Lady Sashandra!” said the man, sighting her above him. “M'Lady, I come from Cryliss! Lord Kumaryn rides to Baerlyn with the Valhanan Black Wolves and more! He means to apprehend you and Yuan Kessligh on charge of murder!”
Sasha frowned at him.
“Murder?” she said incredulously. “Whose murder?”
“M'Lady, I'm not certain, but I think it was a man of the Falcon Guard. A lieutenant, I believe.”
Lieutenant Reynan Pelyn. Sasha swore in disbelief. Tyree was Valhanan's close neighbour and the nobility of both provinces were close; there were many marriages and relations between the two. Family Pelyn was an important family in the heirarchy of Tyree nobility and it would be no surprise if there were close relations to Family Tathys, of which Lord Kumaryn Tathys of Valhanan was head.
But Lord Kumaryn thought to pin that death on her? Had someone lied to protect Jaryd? Or had Jaryd betrayed her? Or was Kumaryn simply determined to rid his province of Valhanan's most troublesome twosome? He had some balls, if that were the case. Balls, or rocks in his head.
She stabbed her pitchfork into the hay bale. “How long until they get here?” she asked.
“They departed at dawn,” said the Cryliss man. “I left before dawn, my horse is fast over distances. I'd guess they might be here a hand before sundown.” The man's pony was lathered white with sweat and breathing hard. “I gave word to several villages along the way, some pledged to send help. Four other riders from Cryliss set out in other directions, it remains to be seen if the help they send arrives in time.”
“We'd best ride back and tell the town!” said Andreyis from the doorway, a little breathlessly. “There's no way we'll let him take you for something you didn't do! Besides, he's got no rights over Baerlyn; Baerlyn only answers to the king!”
Sasha let out a short breath. “I'll ride back,” she replied. “I want you and Lynette to stay here…”
“No!” Andreyis was indignant. “No way! My town is threatened, you're not going to stop me from defending my people and my family!”
Sasha jumped down to a lower bale, then onto the floor. “Andrey…someone has to stay here,” she said, taking up her bandoleer with scabbard attached, and clipping it to her belt. “If it's not you, it'll have to be someone else—we can't make a defensive line forward of the ranch, we'll have to leave it open to them. Those Cryliss bastards have never liked me or Kessligh, they might just take the opportunity to steal a few horses or damage the house, if there's no one here to see it. You'll be safe enough, they'll never hurt children—”
“I'm not a child!” Andreyis retorted.
“Andrey…” Sasha sighed, positioning the bandoleer comfortably over her shoulder, where the skin was tough beneath its familiar weight, “the mark of a Lenay man is that he defends what's his. This ranch is yours, Andrey, as much as it is mine or Kessligh's. Don't you want to defend it?”
Andreyis looked uncomfortable. “Of course I do, but my family…”
“You think you can do a better job of defending the village than the older men? Would it be a sensible allocation of resources to send one of the more experienced warriors here to watch the horses, while you take his place on the line? Would that make Baerlyn safer?” Andreyis looked at the ground. Sasha gathered up the armfuls of hay she'd pitched and began dumping them into the barrow. “Your time will come, just be patient. Besides, it'll be just you against an army. Sounds like much more fun, wouldn't you say?”
“Me and Lynette,” Andreyis retorted. “She could scratch them to death.”
But he seemed mollified as Sasha wheeled the barrow to the stables. She explained the situation to a wide-eyed Lynette, who had been taking her turn at stablework, and gathered Peg from his grassy field for the ride into town. Lynette helped the Cryliss rider to water and feed, and rubbed down his horse—the dussieh was clearly tired. Sasha suggested he should leave the little mare to rest and borrow one of her own horses instead.
The Cryliss rider politely refused. “She'll be good in just a little while,” he insisted, giving the pony's jaw an affectionate rub as she chewed contentedly on some hay. “She'll run all day on a cup of water and a handful of grass, then do it all again the next. No offence, M'Lady, but I wouldn't trade her for ten of your big brutes, no matter what the lowlanders pay for them.”