Arms-Commander

XLVI

Although Saryn rose early on oneday, soon after she started to wash up, her breakfast arrived, as if the chambermaid who delivered it had been waiting in the corridor and hurried down to the kitchen to fetch the tray. Saryn gulped the not-quite-warm fare down and finished dressing. She was in the courtyard before the barracks in time for the morning exercises that she and Hryessa had agreed to continue while they remained in the lowlands. She had just finished sparring with Hryessa-left-handed and using the weighted wands-when one of the palace armsmen hurried across the courtyard. Saryn stood back and waited.

“The Lady Zeldyan wished to inform you that Lord Henstrenn of Duevek will be paying her grace a visit at noon. The lady thought that you might wish to join her before he arrives.”

“You may tell Lady Zeldyan that I will be most pleased to join her.”

“Yes, Commander.” The armsman bowed, then turned and hurried off, clearly pleased to be away from Saryn and the Westwind contingent.

“The Lord of Duevek? The same bastard whose men attacked us the last time?” asked Hryessa, blotting her damp forehead.

“The very same.” Saryn frowned. Zeldyan had suggested that Saryn and the guards make Duevek their first visit, and they had planned to leave Lornth on fourday. Now…Henstrenn was already approaching Lornth. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to find Undercaptain Maerkyn.”

Finding the undercaptain wasn’t all that difficult since he was in the duty room of the first barracks, sitting in a straight-backed chair, his boots on a bench. He bolted to his feet so quickly that his fine black hair, short as it was, sprayed out from his scalp for an instant, and Saryn wondered how she ever could have thought he resembled the blond-haired and diligent Dealdron. “Yes, Commander?” His eyes took in Saryn’s sweat-damp working uniform for just a moment before he looked back directly into Saryn’s eyes…then away.

“Undercaptain, I am not all that certain as to how messages are carried from the regents. I thought you would be able to enlighten me.” Saryn not only watched the young officer but concentrated her senses on him. All she could feel was concern and puzzlement.

“The regents have a squad of couriers here at the palace.”

“A courier carried Lady Zeldyan’s message to me to Westwind. Was that courier one of the armsmen from the palace?”

“Yes, ser.”

“To whom do they report?”

“They all report directly to Overcaptain Gadsyn.”

“And you’re in charge of the other company of armsmen here now?”

“Yes, ser.”

“Who commands the company at The Groves?”

“That’s Captain Tuulyr, ser.”

“So Overcaptain Gadsyn is in charge of all the armsmen and couriers?”

“Yes, ser.”

“Were you the one who gave the message to the courier?”

“Yes, ser…but it was sealed, ser.”

Saryn could sense the truth…and a certain growing anger within the undercaptain. “And it arrived sealed, as it should have. Who was the courier? Is he here in Lornth?”

“Klaemyn, ser, and he’s on the roster for today.”

“We need to talk to armsman Klaemyn.”

“Courier Klaemyn, ser.”

“If you would lead the way…”

Saryn didn’t have far to walk, because the chamber that Saryn would have called the couriers’ ready room was in the same barracks, except at the far east end, nearest the gates.

There were three couriers in the room. Two were polishing their brass, and the third was doing something with his scabbard. All three straightened. “Ser!”

“Maesyn, Zubael…you two can take a walk for a while,” said Maerkyn.

The remaining courier, one of the two who had been working on his brass, stiffened. He looked older than the other two and vaguely familiar to Saryn, but she couldn’t have sworn that he was the one who had delivered Zeldyan’s message. Like Maerkyn had been, he was worried but puzzled, and Saryn could sense his questioning as to what he might have done wrong.

“You were the one selected to ride to Westwind, weren’t you?”

The courier/armsman looked to Maerkyn. The undercaptain nodded. “You’re to answer the commander’s questions.”

“Yes, ser.”

“Where did you stop on the way to Westwind?”

“Just at the way stations, ser. We were told to make haste.”

“I’m curious, Klaemyn. Who were your escorts when you rode to Westwind this last time?”

“Daelyst, Reagor, and Salastyn, ser. They’re with the undercaptain’s company.” The courier went on quickly. “We always have armsmen for the longer runs, where it might be difficult to deliver a message without armsmen.”

“I can see that.”

“You were the one I gave the message to, ser. You remember that, don’t you?”

Saryn could sense the truth there. “I do, and there’s no question that you delivered the missive directly to me. Did you stop only at way stations on the return?”

“Except once, ser. Daelyst said that we could stop at Lord Henstrenn’s on the way back, that he knew the undercaptain of the armsmen there. The timing was right, and we needed a place to sleep, and we’re allowed to stop at holders’ keeps. Lord Henstrenn’s armsmen welcomed us right well. We had a good supper, and a good breakfast.” Klaemyn shook his head. “Last really good meal for Daelyst, poor fellow.”

“Poor fellow?” asked Saryn.

“He started feeling poorly the next day, and he fell out of the saddle dead the day after, just as we were getting near Lornth, almost back. It must have been a flux or something. That’s what the local healer said in the nearest hamlet.”

“I’m very sorry to hear that,” replied Saryn, and she was, but not because she cared greatly for the dead courier. “Do you recall the name of the undercaptain at Duevek?”

“Branslyd. That was what Daelyst said.”

“Undercaptain Branslyd,” mused Saryn, trying to fix the name in her mind, before she asked, “You never let anyone else see or touch the message I gave you?”

“No, ser! We’re not allowed to do that. I even slept with it, ser.”

“Did you sleep well at Duevek?”

The slightest frown crossed Maerkyn’s face, but the undercaptain said nothing.

“Yes, ser. Good bunks, good food…the best night’s rest on the whole run.”

Saryn nodded. “Thank you. You’ve been a great help.”

Once they were well away from the courier’s standby room and back in the duty chamber, Maerkyn looked at Saryn. “Ser, might I ask…?”

“You might, but I’m not at liberty to say. Not yet. Not until I talk to Lady Zeldyan.”

“You don’t think-”

“So far, Undercaptain,” began Saryn, trying to speak formally and indirectly, rather than bluntly, “I have no reason to believe that you or any of those currently under your command did anything improper or disloyal. I doubt that anything I discover will change that. That does not mean that others have not done so, unfortunately.”

As Maerkyn took in her words, Saryn could sense his remaining anger being replaced by a mixture of concern and curiosity. Finally, he asked, “Might I ask why Westwind is so concerned about the regency?”

“It’s very simple, Undercaptain. We like neighbors who are friendly. We get concerned when those rulers who are friendly find themselves in difficulty, particularly when those who are creating the difficulty appear to be far less friendly to Westwind. In short, we’d prefer to help our friends rather than having to fight those who might supplant them.”

“You think the regency is in straits that dire?”

Saryn looked straight at the taller officer. “Don’t you?” She kept her eyes fixed on him.

“I’m…not the one to say…Commander.”

“You’re loyal to the Lady Zeldyan and Lord Nesslek, Maerkyn. I appreciate that. So do they, I’m certain, but loyalty does not require blinders.” Saryn smiled. “Sometimes, it does require tact, and that is a quality that I’ve often found difficult to master when dealing with those who use polite words to conceal less-than-honorable intent.”

Maerkyn looked even more puzzled.

“Let’s just say that honor is as honor does, Undercaptain, not as it speaks. Now…I need to meet with the Lady Zeldyan. Thank you for your help, and I’m sorry if I’m not totally forthcoming.”

“Commander…you need not explain.” Maerkyn’s words were cool.

“I don’t have to, and I would like to, but that has to be the regent’s decision, because it bears on Lord Nesslek’s safety.” Saryn thought she sensed a thawing in the undercaptain’s coolness. “Until later, Undercaptain.”

“Commander.” Maerkyn inclined his head more than was merely perfunctory but less than he probably would have to a male superior.

After she left the duty room, Saryn made her way back to her quarters, stopping only momentarily to check with Hryessa. Then, once she had washed up and changed into a clean uniform-and left the battle harness in her chambers, changing to a formal sword belt with a single short sword-Saryn made her way to Zeldyan’s private chambers, only to be informed by Lyentha that Zeldyan was in the lower tower council chamber. A few moments later, Saryn walked into the lower chamber, where Zeldyan was seated in one of the chairs-now around a circular table that had not been present when Saryn had last been in the chamber. Even in midday, with the brass lamps lit, the dark-paneled chamber was gloomy enough that Saryn wondered how Zeldyan could read the ledger before her.

“I saw you crossing the courtyard with young Maerkyn, and he did not look particularly happy,” offered Zeldyan, without rising from her chair.

“He was not, but I trust I left him in a better humor than then. I talked with your courier, and, although I cannot prove it, I know that my message to you was intercepted and read by Lord Henstrenn and returned to the courier without his knowledge of its absence. That might well explain why Keistyn was waiting to see me when we returned. Had I returned with less of a force, I doubt I would have made it safely to Lornth.”

“You are certain of this?”

“Keistyn was waiting, and I wouldn’t be surprised if Henstrenn was prepared as well in case I went that way. The armsman who arranged for the courier and his escorts to spend the night at Duevek was familiar with an undercaptain there. That armsman woke up ill the next morning and died two days later, supposedly of a flux, just before he was to reach Lornth. The courier admits he had a filling supper at Duevek and slept extraordinarily well that night.” Saryn shrugged.

“You are most suspicious, Saryn.” Zeldyan’s laugh was light and bitter. “That does sound like Henstrenn, leaving no way for anyone to prove anything.”

“Proof may be necessary for public action, but suspicion is sufficient for private precautions.”

“What precautions do you suggest?”

“Those will depend on what Lord Henstrenn has to say.”

“True.” Zeldyan closed the ledger and gestured to the chair at her right. “Join me. It should not be long before his lordship arrives. Henstrenn may be many things, but he is always punctual and attentive to the details, particularly those that do not inconvenience him greatly.”

A few moments after the tower bell rang announcing the turning of the glass at noon, the study door opened, and Lyentha announced, “Lord Henstrenn.”

Henstrenn, Lord of Duevek, was almost what Saryn expected, an older and more handsome version of Keistyn, his black hair shot with streaks of iron gray, and a warm smile on his face as he advanced toward Lady Zeldyan, his boots so light on the stone, then the worn dark green carpet, that his movements seemed almost feline. He stopped and bowed, then said, “My Lady Regent.” Then he turned to Saryn, and added, “Arms-Commander.”

Like Keistyn, Henstrenn had a deep, warm, and powerful voice, one whose friendliness could not have been more at odds with the coldness behind it, Saryn sensed, but she merely replied pleasantly, “Lord Henstrenn.”

“When I heard that the Arms-Commander of Westwind was visiting the regents,” Henstrenn went on, “I thought I would pay my respects to all the regents and the arms-commander.” He paused. “But apparently, I was mistaken about all the regents being present.”

“Your courtesy in wishing to see the arms-commander is much appreciated,” replied Zeldyan. “Please be seated.”

Henstrenn slipped into the seat directly across the table from Zeldyan with feral grace. “Will we be seeing the other regents?”

“My sire has indicated he is involved in training Lord Nesslek, and since I have not heard where Lord Kelthyn is located, it was not possible to contact him in a timely manner,” replied Zeldyan. “We frankly did not expect that the arms-commander would respond so quickly.”

Henstrenn smiled warmly, as did his deep brown eyes. “I have heard that the Marshal of Westwind is not one to tarry. Once she discovered Lord Arthanos marching an army toward the Roof of the World, she destroyed it.” He looked to Saryn. “Or are those reports incorrect or overstated?”

“Lord Arthanos had about nine thousand men, mounted and foot,” replied Saryn. “All but about two hundred perished.”

“I had not heard the details. Perhaps you could enlighten me as to how this amazing destruction was accomplished.”

“I am not privy to all the weapons that the Marshal has at her disposal.” Most, but not all. “I do know that her archers alone slew hundreds, and that we could find no trace, even of the bodies, of most of those who perished.”

“Mighty sorcery, it would appear, must have destroyed the remainder. Would you know just what type of sorcery, Arms-commander?”

“I could not possibly describe the means by which it happened, Lord Henstrenn. I can only say that when the smoke and dust cleared, there was no sign of Lord Arthanos and his army, save a company or so of rear guards and ten supply wagons.” All that was perfectly true, if misleading. For a moment, Saryn could sense that, in some way, her words had discomfited the man, if but for a moment.

“It must be of some concern to those in Westwind that their safety rests so entirely on one person, mighty as the Marshal must be.”

“That is no different from the ruler of any other land, is it?” replied Saryn. “The responsibility lies upon the ruler to find the people and tools by which he or she can best protect the land and those upon it.”

“Lord-holders share that responsibility, if on a lesser scale,” offered Henstrenn. “We must balance what has been with what is best for the future, commensurate with the resources at hand.”

“You state that concisely and well,” said Zeldyan.

“Thank you, your grace. Now that the arms-commander is indeed here in Lornth, might I ask what your plans are?”

“You may indeed, Lord Henstrenn. We will be visiting a number of holdings so that the holders may meet Commander Saryn and come to understand better why it is good to have an ally such as Westwind between us and Gallos…as well as flanking Suthya.”

“You realize, Lady Zeldyan, that we would not have difficulties with Suthya had Lornth in an earlier time not taken action to seize certain lands and the port of Rulyarth?”

“That is an interesting way of putting it, since Rulyarth and the lands along the river had belonged to Lornth for centuries until they were seized a generation ago. Reclaiming what was historically ours should not have been unexpected by the Suthyans.”

“No, Lady, but taking it without the means to hold it for long exposed us to greater danger than not taking it at all. Still…I would not dwell on Suthya, for what is past is past.”

There was a silence, although Saryn could sense Zeldyan’s concealed anger. After a moment, Saryn said, “As you may have heard, Lord Henstrenn, because traders do tend to cross the Roof of the World, we do occasionally hear intriguing bits of news. One that the Marshal found of great interest was that a Suthyan trader apparently visited several holdings in Lornth. What seemed strange was that he took no goods with him, just armsmen bound to the Suthyan Council. Because your holding is closer to the roads that the traders follow, I was wondering what else you might be able to add to what the Marshal conveyed to the regents.”

Henstrenn was not surprised by Saryn’s words, either in expression or within, which confirmed for her that he already knew that she knew of his dealings with Baorl. “I could not possibly add to anything that the most powerful Marshal of Westwind has determined to have occurred. I would say that any holder who would protect his people will listen to all sources of information, but listening does not mean that loyalties change in the slightest, only that one listens, just as you, Lady Zeldyan, and the regents listen to me and to the arms-commander.”

“You’re most persuasive, Lord Henstrenn.” Zeldyan smiled. “You are also most astute. Of all the holders you know, who might be among the best for the arms-commander and me to visit-besides yourself, since you have been so kind as to make yourself available here?”

“Ah…there are so many who have doubts about the efficacy of allying Lornth to a power about which they know so little…” Henstrenn paused, as if he were thinking, before continuing. “But I might suggest Lord Maeldyn, or perhaps Lord Spalkyn.”

Saryn could sense a calculation behind Henstrenn’s suggestion, one, she suspected, designed to push Zeldyan away from the very names he had suggested.

“Do any others come to mind?” Zeldyan’s inquiry was sweetly voiced.

“If one wanted to find out how those near Lord Deryll feel about Westwind, you might consider visiting Lord Barcauyn.”

“That is a most interesting possibility,” admitted Zeldyan. “We will give your thoughts careful consideration, Lord Henstrenn. And how is your most lovely and obedient consort?”

“Myleanda is well. She is visiting her cousin at the moment.”

“Oh…I had not heard that. She and Keistyn are so different…”

“Different as we may all be, we do share a great concern about assuring that Lornth remain strong…as I know you do, Lady Zeldyan.”

“I am so glad to hear you say that,” replied Zeldyan. “You, above all, are known for keeping your word and commitments.”

“You are most kind,” demurred Henstrenn.

Saryn managed to keep a pleasant smile on her face for another quarter glass or so while Zeldyan and Henstrenn traded apparent pleasantries.

Finally, Zeldyan rose from her seat, and, after a moment, as Henstrenn did, so did Saryn.

“I am so glad that you came to see me and to meet Commander Saryn,” Zeldyan said warmly. “I’m sure that you’ll be telling your acquaintances about her, and how much better it would be to have Westwind as an ally in these…difficult times.”

“They could, indeed, be difficult times, and we all must take care to choose wisely for Lornth, Lady Regent…as I know you will.” Henstrenn bowed to Zeldyan, then turned slightly to Saryn. “I’m pleased to meet you, Commander Saryn, here, rather than in a less…hospitable situation, and I trust you feel as I do.”

“Indeed I do,” replied Saryn with yet another smile she did not feel. “It’s well to learn about someone in person so that you don’t judge that person on what others say.”

“Do not let us keep you,” said Zeldyan. “Do convey my best to your consort.”

Zeldyan did not reseat herself until several moments after the study door closed behind the departing Henstrenn. When she sat back down, so did Saryn.

“I didn’t realize that Keistyn and Henstrenn were related by consortship,” Saryn said.

“Saryn,” said Zeldyan gently, “in some way or another all of the seventeen major holders in Lornth are related to each other. With whom else could they consort?”

Saryn concealed a wince. No wonder Lornth was in trouble.

“Now…we should discuss whom we should visit, and in what order. I’m inclined to follow Henstrenn’s suggestions.”

“So that you can point out to Kelthyn that you did…and because those names were on the list anyway?”

“At times, doing what someone says they want is the best way to disarm them.” Zeldyan smiled. “Besides, he did not wish me to visit Maeldyn. That was why he suggested him.”

Saryn smiled back at the regent. Zeldyan was no one’s fool.