Arms-Commander

XLV

As on her previous journey to Lornth, when Saryn and her detachment rode the last kays toward the town in the late afternoon of eightday, they saw no scouts who might have conveyed information on the presence of Westwind guards to the regents. When they entered the town proper, the only reaction was a sullen sort of fear, where women eased away from laundry tubs and into their summer-sweltering stucco houses, dragging children after them, until the guards had ridden well past.

Even more pungent smells rose from the stone-lined sewage channels into the still, hot air, mixing with the odor of hot, and at least some burned, cooking oils. The unpleasantness of the odors intensified as the guards rode into the center of Lornth, with its narrow and roughly paved streets. Those out on the streets glanced toward the riders, then generally looked away.

When Saryn saw the small square ahead, with its statue of Lord Nessil, she began to search intently in all directions for a signboard or something that might indicate the presence of the Square Platter. Not until she was past the statue did she finally catch a glimpse of a signboard with a cream-colored square platter set against a green backdrop, down perhaps half a block on the right side of the second narrow side street on the south.

Then she rode through the narrower section of the avenue, with its taller and more ornate dwellings, and out onto the road around the green before the palace, whose pale pink walls looked even more washed-out in the late-afternoon summer sun.

“To the right!” ordered Saryn, gesturing for the scouts riding ahead to follow the right section of the road circling the now-browning patchy grass of the green.

The ironbound gates stood open, and Saryn had to wonder if they had ever been closed. Probably not, because the ten-cubit wall around the palace complex was hardly enough to stop a determined enemy of any great numbers, although it might suffice against a mob. But then, Saryn wondered, could the lord-holders or anyone else raise a large force?

As Saryn raised her arm to order the Westwind contingent to a halt before the open gates, an older armsman half hurried, half waddled out of the guard house just inside the gates and stopped dead, not even reaching the space between the gates.

“I’m Saryn, the Arms-Commander of Westwind. I came to see the regents. At their request.”

“Ah…yes, ser. I had not heard,” stammered the guard, looking past Saryn at the ranks of mounts and guards, his eyes wide.

“We will take the same rear stables and quarters we did on our last visit,” Saryn announced. “I would suggest that someone inform the Lady Zeldyan that we have arrived.”

The guard gulped, looked at the armed women, and finally replied, “Yes…ser.”

“Thank you.” Saryn nodded to Hryessa.

“Company! Forward!”

The hoofs of the Westwind horses clattered on the unevenly laid cobblestones, seemingly the only sound in the large courtyard, as Saryn and Hryessa led the detachment toward the paved area behind the palace proper, then to the two-story outbuildings set before the rear wall at the far west end of the complex. The scraggly grass between the cobblestones had turned brown, as had some of the moss on the lowest stones of the palace walls.

“You were not so polite this time,” murmured Hryessa.

“Now is not the time for deference to mere armsmen,” replied Saryn. “They need to understand that we stand for the Lady Zeldyan.” Saryn was far more concerned than she had been on her previous visit. Surely, after a request from the Lady Zeldyan, word should have been passed to the armsmen. Or did Zeldyan fear that, if Saryn did not arrive, her authority as regent would be even further weakened?

“This is worse than before,” murmured Hryessa. “How can they let half a company of armsmen approach the main hold of Lornth and not know?”

“That is why we are here, I fear,” replied Saryn.

An ostler rushed out of the first stable, his eyes wide, then ducked back inside.

“Company! Halt!” ordered Hryessa, as she and Saryn reined up in front of the second stable.

Saryn eased her gelding aside while Hryessa turned her mount to face the detachment, then said, “Most of you know the drill. Mounts to the stables, then guards to the barracks and make sure everything is as it should be. Dismissed to duties!”

Saryn had barely dismounted when she saw an armsman hurrying across the courtyard from the rear of the palace. As he neared, she could make out the features of the same junior officer who had greeted them earlier. Unfortunately, she could not remember his name.

“Commander!” called the undercaptain.

Saryn waited until he stopped a yard from her. She’d once thought that he resembled Dealdron; but it was clear, now that she looked, that he did not. She could sense the mixture of consternation and even fear stirred up within him. “Yes, Undercaptain?”

“The Lady Zeldyan conveys her apologies for your not being recognized. She had not anticipated that you would respond to her invitation so speedily.”

With a smile, Saryn replied, “Her invitation did say that she wished to meet at our earliest convenience. We have obliged her.”

“Yes, ser. As soon as you have your guards settled, she would very much appreciate a brief meeting with you personally.”

“I would be happy to do so. It should not be that long.”

Less than a quarter glass later, Saryn and the undercaptain walked across the rough stone pavement of the rear courtyard to the door on the south wing of the palace and up the single flight of steps. Saryn carried her saddlebags and a second bag with other uniforms and items she had thought she might find of use.

“The same chamber as before?” she asked.

“Yes, ser.”

Saryn turned to the right, noting that the air in the corridor was warm and stale.

A young chambermaid-the same one as before, Saryn thought-hurried from the end door, then stepped to the side, her eyes wide before she dropped them, and said, “Your chamber is ready, Commander.”

“Thank you.” Saryn smiled.

The girl glanced up, fleetingly, her eyes taking in Saryn’s battle harness, before they dropped again.

Saryn did not doff the harness and blades after she set her gear on the writing table, but she did take a moment to locate a clothesbrush and used it to remove the dust from her boots and uniform before she turned. “I’m ready.”

“Yes, ser.”

As she walked down the corridor beside the undercaptain, she could sense the chambermaid following, if at a discreet distance. She also managed to drag up the name of the undercaptain from her memory by the time they passed the top of a large formal staircase in the middle of the palace and reached the north staircase, where they climbed another flight of stairs, then walked to the same unmarked doorway where Saryn had been before and a single armsman stood.

Saryn nodded. “Thank you, Undercaptain Maerkyn. I trust I will see you later.”

“Yes, ser.” Maerkyn stepped back.

Saryn could sense the chambermaid peering out from the stairwell and watching the three figures outside the private chambers of Lady Zeldyan.

The guard outside the study looked at Saryn and her weapons.

Saryn looked through him, her eyes cold, projecting a flow of total command.

The man stepped aside.

Saryn nodded and opened the door.

“…never seen that…” came the faintest murmur before Saryn closed the door behind her and smiled. There would be more than a few things happening that Lornth had not seen before if she had anything to do with it.

Lady Zeldyan had already stepped away from the small square table set before the middle window of the sitting room. On the table were two bottles and a pair of goblets. Zeldyan wore a purple tunic and trousers trimmed in black, and her silver-and-blond hair was drawn back away from her face. The darkness under Zeldyan’s eyes was more pronounced than it had been earlier.

“If you would sit down…” The regent waited to seat herself until Saryn began to take the other seat. “I can only offer white or amber wine…Commander…”

“Saryn, if you would.”

“Only if you call me Zeldyan…which you have not done…” Zeldyan’s smile was impish, and the amusement behind it startled Saryn so that she did not reply immediately.

“White or amber?” asked the regent.

“Whichever is lighter, I think.”

“The white, then.” Zeldyan filled both goblets, then lifted hers. “To your courtesy in heeding my request.”

Saryn returned the gesture. “And to your grace.” She took a sip of the clear white vintage, pleased at its light, slightly fruity flavor…and its coolness.

“You came armed.” Zeldyan’s smile slipped away.

“I came prepared, Lady.”

“I did not expect an even-larger party than when you came earlier in the year. I do not know whether to be complimented or worried.”

“Westwind wishes you to remain regent. The Marshal allowed me half a company…and some spare mounts and equipment. We also returned two of the wagons and drays. The other cart…barely survived the trip to Westwind, and the dray would not have survived the return.”

“All will be surprised that you returned two,” replied Zeldyan sardonically.

“The palace seems…rather empty, and I did not see Nesslek…” offered Saryn.

“In the summer, few wish to remain in Lornth who do not have to. Nesslek is at The Groves with his grandsire.”

“Is that for the summer…or because matters are less than desirable here in Lornth?”

“He is spending the summer with his grandsire, as he has often done, and as I did as a child.”

“Of course.” Saryn nodded, understanding fully that Nesslek was where Zeldyan thought he would be the safest. “The holdings near there are most friendly to your sire?”

“All those near The Groves are most faithful to my sire…and to the rightful heir.” Zeldyan sipped her wine.

“The regents did not request my presence, did they? You did. The others don’t even know we’re here. Or they didn’t until we arrived.”

“They will not know for a time. Those loyal to Kelthyn have already left Lornth for the season. Little occurs here in high summer.”

“What would you have of me, Lady?” Saryn took another sip of the cool wine.

“What ever you can do to assure that my son lives to his maturity…and to succeed his father.”

“That suggests that there are those who wish otherwise…besides Kelthyn,” Saryn observed quietly.

“There are those.”

“I do not think that you would wish more killing and violence.”

“No ruler or regent wishes that,” replied Zeldyan.

“You will pardon me, Lady, but I know little of the holders of Lornth. Besides those of the regents, I know only of the Lord of Duevek, who was both rash and impolite, and who is doubtless under the influence of the Suthyans, and Lord Keistyn, who met us briefly on the road through his lands.”

“What did you think of young Keistyn?” Zeldyan’s voice was even, but in the thoughts behind the perfectly modulated tone, Saryn could sense the lady’s dislike.

“He was most polite, and his voice and eyes were warm and cheerful. No holder in Lornth can be that warm to a party of Westwind guards without dissembling.”

“His father perished when the Cyadorans attacked.” Zeldyan laughed. “Lord Chentyr of Hasel had taken care to position himself most carefully, well out on the flank, claiming he was there to support my brother, Fornal. When Fornal charged, Chentyr did not, but a stray chaos-bolt from the Cyadoran mages was deflected from the mage Nylan and struck Chentyr. Not even cinders remained. Yet Chentyr was a paragon of virtue compared to his son.”

“That would suggest the son has little love for either you or Westwind.”

“On the few occasions he has been here in the palace, he has always been volubly pleasant and most courteous.”

“And the same is true of Lord Duevek?”

“Actually, he is Lord Henstrenn of Duevek, or Henstrenn, Lord of Duevek, just as Keistyn is Lord Keistyn of Hasel, or Keistyn, Lord of Hasel, although the common folk often just call whoever holds the lands Lord Duevek or Lord Hasel or, in my father’s case, Lord Groves.”

That made a sort of sense to Saryn. “How am I to know who might be truly a friend of the regency, who might not, and who has yet to decide?”

“I have already considered that…Saryn.” Zeldyan drew a folded sheet of parchment from somewhere below the table and extended it.

Saryn opened and studied it. There were three columns of names, but nothing else. After a moment, she smiled. The first column was headed by Gethen, Lord of The Groves, the second by Henstrenn, Lord of Duevek, and the third by Maeldyn, Lord of Quaryn, a name that Saryn did not recognize. “Where is Quaryn?”

Zeldyan extended another parchment, one clearly older, and colored. “This is a map of the holdings of Lornth, as they were when Sillek’s father became Lord of Lornth. Some boundaries have changed, and, for now, there is no Lord of Rohrn, since almost no one there survived the Cyadoran chaos-fires. But that should help you know what holdings there are. I would request you return the map to me when you no longer need it.”

“Thank you. I will.” Saryn smiled but let the expression drop as she asked, “What plan do you have in mind in which I might be helpful?”

“I had thought that together we might visit some holdings.”

“Beginning with those in the second column? The first name first?” Saryn raised her eyebrows.

“That was my thought, once your guards and their mounts have had some time to recover from their trip.” Zeldyan smiled. “The holders are required to host the retainers of the Lord of Lornth, and the regency, once a year, for up to an eightday. That will provide some relief to our treasury and allow you to meet them and them to meet you…and your guards.”

“Do you think it wise to take both squads on these visits?”

“What would you suggest?”

“I have not seen many armsmen here in the palace,” ventured Saryn.

“At present, there is less than a company. There is a full company at The Groves.”

“You aren’t leaving yourself much protection.”

“I need little. All know that in less than four years, Nesslek will be overlord. Besides, were I to die in some unfortunate fashion, my father has the right to name another regent. Only one is named by a vote of the lord-holders. If anything happens to Nesslek, however…”

Saryn understood. Still…there were other matters to work out. “We do represent Westwind, and it is possible that women who are displeased with their situation may come to us, for we are far closer here than on the Roof of the World.”

“I had not thought of that.” Zeldyan frowned. “It would not do to have consorts deserting their men. Nor would it be seemly for your guards to entice women of Lornth.”

“What about young women, or single women without consorts or children?”

“What will you tell the others?”

“That we are a fighting unit, and that while we will accept those who can be trained to fight, we cannot break up house holds or act in a way that might orphan children, not when we are here as your guests.”

“I do not know…” mused Zeldyan.

“Would any man truly want a girl who wants to be a Westwind guard?”

“I could point that out. It would work with most.”

“Those who would not accept that will find other reasons to dislike us,” Saryn said.

“You may not seek out those girls.”

“I’ll make sure that the guards all know that and obey.”

Zeldyan sighed. “Nothing is as simple as one would like it.”

“No. What else do we need to discuss?”

The regent glanced out the window. “There is much you need to know about Lornth. We should begin over supper. Do not worry about your guards. I’ve told the kitchen to take care of them.”

“You’re most kind,” replied Saryn.

“No…I’m being practical, and I dislike eating alone.” Zeldyan rose from the table. “We will eat in the breakfast room, though. It’s far less austere.”

Saryn rose and followed the regent from the sitting room.

Over the course of supper, a simple meal of cutlets and rice in a cheese-cream sauce with early peaches from the south, she heard far more about the various lord-holders of Lornth than she had ever imagined she would need to know…and yet, the fact that Zeldyan knew such a range of facts and trivia suggested that it was far from trivial. Even so, Saryn’s brain was reeling under the impact of names and deeds and the grievances and slights claimed by holders she had not even known existed two glasses before.

Early evening passed, and it was full night when Saryn made her way to the upper level of the barracks and the single occupied officer’s room, where Hryessa was poring over an ancient folder of maps.

“Ser?” Hryessa rose from the ancient straight-spoked oak chair.

“What have you learned?”

“There’s no army here at all, less than a company.”

“There’s only one other company, from what the regent told me, and that’s at The Groves, guarding Lord Nesslek.”

“Are we here just to guard the regent, then?” asked Hryessa.

“No. We’re here to see that Nesslek lives to become lord.” Saryn shook her head. “The Lady Zeldyan has requested that I accompany her, with one squad, to visit various holders over the remaining course of the summer, and possibly through harvest. I’d thought I’d take fourth squad for the first visits and alternate squads after that, but you’ll have to take charge of whichever one is here.”

Hryessa nodded. “I thought it might be something like that.”

“I got the regent to agree that you could accept recruits, provided that they’re not married…” Saryn explained the rest of what she had covered with Zeldyan. “…if any who have been beaten or abused persist, all you can tell them is that, if they reach Westwind, it is unlikely the Marshal will turn them away, but you cannot hazard the guards here or Westwind itself.”

Hryessa nodded. “I hate telling ’em that.”

“You made the trip. So did every woman there.”

“More tried and didn’t reach Westwind.”

“I know, but we can only do so much.”

“Another thing, I’d suggest, ser,” said Hryessa. “We shouldn’t restrict the guards to the palace, not if we’re going to be here two seasons.”

“Yes?” Saryn waited, although she had her own ideas.

“I’d recommend we let them go into Lornth, but only in groups of three.”

“Three?”

“It’s a mite harder to persuade two others to do something stupid than just one, and one or two guards might not be enough in some situations.”

“Three it is,” agreed Saryn, “but no more than three groups at any one time, unless both squads are here, and then it can be six, and not tonight. I need to tell the regent.”

“That’s fair.”

Dealing with the guards and their relations with the people of Lornth was likely to be far easier than dealing with the lord-holders, reflected Saryn. Far easier.