“He is.” Kaa Sokari dipped his chin in the direction of the bird. There was something of the eagle about the bowmaster as well, Saska thought. It’s those stern eyes of his, always narrowed to a glare. He was not a large man, though wiry and strong, taut as though ready to act at all times. Like an eagle, preparing to launch upon its prey. “Now, where is that brother of yours? This would be a good opportunity to train, do you not agree?”
Del might say otherwise. The bowmaster had pushed him hard, a relentless shadow he could not seem to escape, though not without reward. Day by day, Del was making progress. That did not mean he much liked his master. But that was perhaps the point. Sokari knows how to train an apprentice, Saska thought. And being liked has nought to do with it. “Perhaps give him a moment to bathe first?” she offered.
The master archer looked down to the riverbank where some of the men were arrayed, disrobing. “Fine. I will give him a few minutes, but that is all. The light is fading, and the boy must be trained. Tell him he has five minutes only.”
Saska smiled. “Are you not going to wash as well?”
“Later. I will wash when our work is done, and not before.” The man spun and marched away.
Saska wandered down to where her brother was standing, smiling and shaking her head as she went. “Your master gives you the gift of five minutes,” she told him. “So you’d better get in there, Del. Else he’ll come down here and pull you out in the nude, and you’ll have to train without any clothes.”
Del did not look particularly enamoured by the prospect. “I don’t have to wash naked, do I?”
“Yes,” said Leshie. “All men have to bathe naked here. Didn’t you know? It’s the rule.” She gestured along the banks. True enough, many of the Aramatians were unburdening themselves of all of their garments and wading into the water, entirely nude. Leshie was thoroughly enjoying the sight. “You see. Rules are rules, Del. Now show us your goods.”
He took a step back from the water’s edge. “Forget it, I don’t need to wash. Where’s Master Sokari? I’ll just go and train instead.”
Leshie laughed at him. “You do need to wash. Believe me. You stink, Squire. And more than the rest of us.”
That wasn’t fair. They all smelled equally awful. “You don’t have to bathe naked, Del,” Saska said. And that’s not something I want to see, she omitted. “Just wash in your breeches, and they’ll dry as you train.” She pointed. “Not everyone’s washing in the nude.”
Some of the men had chosen to stay in their breeks and breechclouts, which Leshie suggested meant they were not well endowed. “Men are very protective of their manhoods,” she declared. “Thankfully, I don’t have that problem.” With a great deal of bravado, the Red Blade stripped off her clothes until she stood there, pale as milk and nude as a newborn, with a great big smile on her face. “You see.” She even did a little twirl. “Naked and not ashamed.” Then she strode into the river, washing in full view of the men.
Del was staring, wide-eyed. His mouth hung slightly open.
“OK, that’ll do,” Saska said, snapping him out of it. “Maybe go and wash further upriver. Or downriver. Just…not here.” He didn’t move. “Go, Del. You’ve only got a few minutes.” She shooed him off, pushing the boy up to where the men were washing, then began removing her own clothes, until she was down to her undergarments. She had a bar of soap with her as well, wrapped in a cloth, which she fetched from her saddlebag. Then she waded into the lukewarm water, letting out a sigh of sweet relief as it trickled past her feet, her ankles, her thighs, and right on up to her hips and waist. It was wider than Saska had thought, the river, perhaps seven or eight metres across and over a metre deep. That gave enough privacy for most, who stood in the water up to their navels, scrubbing at their skin and rubbing the dirt from their clothes.
“You’re not naked,” Leshie observed. She sounded a little disappointed.
“No,” Saska said, as she scoured herself. She looked around. “Too many men. And I’m not a showoff like you.”
“You washed naked in a river before, though. You told me. That night those Patriots attacked you. And you met Joy.”
Saska smiled to remember it. It probably wasn’t so far from here, somewhere to the north. Maybe even the same river, she thought. It was not near as wide or deep, though, so probably not, unless it was just a tributary of this one. “There weren’t many people about then,” she said. “Only Rolly and Mellio and Pig, and a few locals at the well. And it was darker too. I don’t think it would be appropriate here, Lesh.”
The girl shrugged. “Guess you are a princess. Though that Savage bitch is still in her smallclothes too, I saw. And the Tigress, she’s…” She looked around. “Well, I can’t see her at all.”
No, you wouldn’t. The Tigress did not seem the sort of woman who would undress in front of these men. If she’ll wash, she’ll do so in the dead of night when there’s no one to see her scars. Saska was suddenly conscious of her own, the lash marks that latticed the flesh of her back. Not many people had seen those before, or even knew of them. Rolly, yes, and Del and Leshie, who had bathed with her sometimes in the terrace pools at the top of the palace. The Butcher had glimpsed them as well, she did not doubt, but elsewise none of them knew. A part of her wanted to rush out and cover up, or else kneel down and hide in the water, but the better part of her did not care. Let them see, she told herself. Let them see what the Kastors did to me. I’m not some pretty princess, as the Butcher calls me. Those scars tell a different tale.
The sun was setting in the west, casting a golden light across the plains and gilding the surface of the river. Before long Leshie’s skin was scoured raw at the chest and belly, thighs and arms. “You look redder than ever, Lesh. Or pink. Maybe we should call you the Pink Blade instead.”
“Doesn’t sound as good,” Leshie said. She was looking upriver, eyes narrowing. “There’s that bitch again,” she said. “Look. Right there. Staring at me.”
Saska looked, against her better judgment, and saw that Savage was indeed staring their way. Ever since the incident where Leshie caught her with her husband, the two had become bitter enemies, sharing scowls and curses whenever they got close to one another. “Ignore her, Leshie. I’ve told you both already, I don’t want any violence.”
“Yeah, and she just snorted and walked away when you did. She’s going to try to get me, I know she is. When there’s a battle, she’ll slip a knife between my rips and claim she tripped.”
“She won’t. You just need to find something in common with her, and then you’ll become fast friends, I know it.” Leshie gave some snorting reply to that, but Saska didn’t care to hear it. She looked downriver, to where Rolly and Tantario were talking with some of the villagers at the top of the banks. She was not surprised that Rolly wasn’t washing. He’ll do so later, like the Tigress. He’ll want the cover of night before he unveils the ruin of his body. “I’m done, Lesh. If you want to keep on grumbling, there’s a rock there that’ll be only too happy to listen.”
She smiled at her, then waded out, skin dripping, smallclothes soaked and cleaned. She had washed her other garments too, which she bundled on a rock as she wrapped her soap back in its cloth and set it aside. The air was cooling now, as it did at dusk, and there was even a bit of breeze, brushing through her hair and caressing her smooth olive skin. Much colder and I may even shiver, she thought, delirious, as she picked up her spare shift and pulled it over her shoulders.
As she was doing that one of Tantario’s men came past. “Serenity. Are these your clothes?”
She looked down at the soaking bundle on the rock. “Yes, they are.”
“Then I will take them for you.” He reached out to pick them up.
She frowned. “What are you going to do with them?”
“Hang them to dry, my lady.” Some of the men were pitching camp some thirty metres from the river, she saw, raising tents and setting lines, driving torch-poles into the ground to mark the borders and help keep watch. It had been a clear day, but the sight of the clouds suggested it might be a dark night. They were gathering, closing in. We’ll have no moon tonight, she thought.
“Please, let me. You don’t have to hang my washing for me. That isn’t your duty.”
“My duty is to serve.” He bowed low, and smiled at her pleasantly. “It is no trouble.” Then he stepped away.
It still felt strange to her, being treated like this. Not so long ago it was me hanging clothes, she thought. It was one of the many duties she had performed at Willow’s Rise. Washing, cooking, cleaning, hunting, picking fruit and ploughing the fields and a host of others besides. She had grown used to being treated like a lady when she was Elio Krator’s captive, the maids Milla and Koya and Yasha all bathing and scrubbing her nightly, dressing her up for dinner with the sunlord. And in the palace too, where her grandmother’s maids and servers had attended her. But this was different. He’s Lightborn, she thought. Not a rider of sun or star, but a paladin knight of rich breeding. He shouldn’t be hanging my clothes.
Joy came loping up beside her as she walked down the banks to join Sir Ralston, water dripping from the bristles of her face. She smiled, scratching at the cat’s head as they went. “Are you going to go hunting tonight, girl? You must be happy to be out of that canyon?”
As ever, the starcat gave no verbal response, though that didn’t matter. Saska could feel what Joy was thinking. “Maybe I’ll come with you? Do you think Rolly would let us?” The open plains were calling to her. She had come to like her chestnut courser, but there was nothing like riding atop Joy, bounding over boulders and scampering up rocks, feeling that power and agility beneath her as the starcat ran and sprang and leapt across the world.
A few more villagers had gathered by the time she arrived, all talking over one another in a rapid, rattle-tat tongue. Sir Ralston Whaleheart looked exasperated. “I have no idea what they’re saying,” he said, leaning down to Saska. “Do you understand any of this?”
Her Aramatian was pretty fluent by now, but all the same, they were talking quickly and in a local dialect that made it difficult. “I get the gist of it,” she said. “They’re arguing about what we should be doing to help them, I think. I’m not sure what that means, though.”
The Wall grumbled and shook his head. “They were telling us just now about the troubles they have been facing,” he said. “Alym was translating for my behalf until several others got involved, and all this shouting began.”
“What sort of troubles?” Saska asked.
