“No, probably not; but experiencing something doesn’t always make it beneficial.” Keles arched his back and pops rippled up his spine. “Tyressa and I had a conversation once. She said she hoped your people could move on and find a home, not just keep fighting over this one. She said the struggle for Helosunde was what defined all of you.”

“I’ll grant she might be right, that being rooted here in Helosunde has warped some people.” She looked over at him. “The Council’s agents did not treat you the way we welcome guests and friends.”

“I don’t believe I was seen as a guest or friend.” Keles coughed again. “Ieral Scoan saw me as a xingnadin. He wanted me broken. I don’t think he’s that different from anyone else in the Nine.”

“You may have a point there.”

“And your point is also well-taken, Princess.” Keles shrugged. “The political climate in Helosunde shaped those who now chase us. The Council feared Prince Pyrust for a long time. Now they curry his favor by trying to capture you.”

“This means that both Jasai and Tyressa are right.” The Prince nodded firmly. “People need a place whence strong traditions can grow; and it would appear that Helosunde in its current state is not that place. Whether we find another, or reshape Helosunde, the task that awaits us will not be simple.”

It seemed the Prince had more to offer on the subject, but the pounding of hoofbeats coming up the road from the south cut him off. Tyressa reined a well-lathered horse to a stop beside them. “There’s a company of cavalry ahead of us. Scoan is leading them.”

“How did he get south of us?”

Jasai waved away her brother’s question. “How did he find so many horses?”

“They’ve been ridden hard, and no one has a spare mount that I saw. They must have paralleled us, then come east to cut us off when we didn’t make for the coast.” Tyressa leaped from the saddle and drew a sword. “Everyone into the woods. We’ll hold them off while Keles gets Jasai out to the west.”

Jasai shook her head. “No. These people are exhausted. I’ll not have them die now so I can be caught ten miles from here.”

“Jasai. Rekarafi can get you out of here.” Keles looked around. “Where is he?”

“He was scouting to the west. He may have already run into them.” Tyressa grabbed Jasai’s reins. “Do not defy me, Jasai. Get out of here. Take Keles and your brother. Go.”

Eiran slid from his saddle and grabbed Tyressa’s wrist. “Let her stay.”

“You can’t do this, Eiran. You abandoned her once in Meleswin. You’re not turning her over to him.”

Eiran hesitated as Tyressa’s words sank in. He ran a hand over his mouth, then looked up at his sister. “I was a coward then. I didn’t know my own limits. I have a better idea of them now.”

The Prince drew his sword and stepped further down the road. The thunder of approaching riders became unmistakable. The Desei warriors and Eiran’s loyalists blocked the road, with Tyressa beside the Prince. A few people kindled torches and Eiran’s wavering shadow weaved side to side over the roadway.

A mounted warrior burst from the dark forest tunnel. His sword hissed from the scabbard. The rider came on hard, his sword raised. It flashed down. Eiran’s sword rose, caught the slash and turned it aside. The rider jerked his reins hard, spinning his horse around. Hooves gouged the earth but before he could make another pass, Tyressa darted forward and yanked him from the saddle.

The man yelped. Tyressa silenced him with a knee to the face.

Ieral Scoan drew rein. His men spread out. “Caught at last.”

Eiran settled into a fighting stance, his sword raised by his right ear. “Not yet caught.”

“Said as if you were the one who had unhorsed my man. I am not impressed.”

“I don’t care if I impress you or not, Ieral Scoan. My only concern is for true sons of Helosunde, not some creature given to obeying its Desei masters.”

“I’m not the one consorting with the Desei, Duke Eiran.”

“ Prince Eiran, duly voted to that post by those you serve. Their failure to kill me did not remove that title.” Eiran jerked his head back toward those behind him. “Desei these may be, but they are in service to my sister.”

Ieral laughed. “And she is a Desei Princess, carrying Pyrust’s child.”

“But she’s here, isn’t she? A daughter of Helosunde, returning to her home to give birth.” Eiran’s head came up. He looked around at those who had ridden with Scoan. “How many of your mothers made the same journey so you could be born north of the mountains? How can you dishonor those brave women by stopping my sister?”

A few of the riders looked away, embarrassed. Ieral raised a hand to silence murmuring. “The world has changed, Eiran, and better you were dead than see it. We are Helosundian and are stronger for our unity with Deseirion. The Prince wants us to take custody of his wife and the Anturasi.”

“So, it is Pyrust’s bidding you do. The Council no longer even pretends to be Helosundian. What did he tell you? That you were riding after criminals? That you were stopping a Desei invasion? He dared not tell you the truth. No true son of Helosunde would join him in this foul task were the truth known.”

Ieral slipped from his saddle and drew his sword. “I take offense at your words.”

“I take offense at your actions.”

“Very well, then we shall settle this here and now-provided you wish your sister to see you die. I am a swordsman of Serrian Tsuxai. I am of the eighth rank.”

Eiran tightened his grip on his sword. “I claim no sword school.”

“Then why do this?”

“Because I shall fight in his stead.” Tyressa moved forward. “I am Keru.”

“Keru? I am not afraid of you.” Ieral waved her forward. “If you wish a spear, I will provide you one.”

Eiran grabbed his aunt’s shoulder. “You’re not taking my place.”

Jasai spurred her horse past both of them. “And neither of you acts as my champion.” Her head held high, she reined up short of the ministers’ man. “What price safe conduct for my companions? They mean nothing to you. I am the prize.”

Ieral shrugged. “In exchange for you, the Desei can return home. The Anturasi, the Keru, they come with us. That is the only bargain that can be struck.”

“And my brother?”

Ieral shook his head. “The Council has ordered his death.”

“Why?”

The question caught Ieral off guard. “It is not my place to question their orders.”

“But you know the answer, don’t you?” Jasai shook her head. “Prince Pyrust pulls their strings, and they pull yours.” She reined her horse around, showing him her back. “I withdraw my offer. I surrender to no puppet.”

Eiran looked up at Ieral’s men. “You allow him to pull your strings?”

“I don’t pull strings, I cut them.” Ieral Scoan flowed forward through the shadows. His sword rose and flashed liquid lightning. It swept down, passing in an arc beneath Eiran’s parry. The blade came back up as Ieral spun. The leaping-dog crest on the back of his robe grew taut, then the blade fell again in a cut that trimmed a light brown lock of Eiran’s hair.

The cut would have taken the Prince’s head off, save that he’d stumbled forward with the momentum of his failed parry. His robe’s sash, neatly cut across the knot, fluttered to the ground. The Prince pitched face forward onto the road. His sword bounced once, then spun, tracing curved lines in the dirt.

A booted foot stopped it.

Ieral shifted his stance and leveled his sword at the newcomer. “Who are you?”

The interloper hooked a toe beneath the hilt and kicked the sword into the air. Firelight gleamed from the lazily spinning blade. A hand plucked the sword from the air. He whipped it around, then snapped it forward with such force that the blade quivered.

He smiled. “This will do.”

Keles’ jaw dropped. It can’t be…

“ Xidantzu? ” Ieral raised his head. “Begone, wanderer. You want no part of this.”