Arms-Commander (30 page)

“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.

Given the way inns operated, Saryn decided that she would visit the Square Platter after midmorning on twoday. Again, as she and the three guards rode from the palace to the square and down the side street, men and women alike glanced at them, then quickly looked away.

When she dismounted outside the Square Platter, she handed the gelding's reins to Yulia. “Just wait here for now.” She studied the inn, a narrow brown-and-yellow brick building some fifteen yards across the front, with three windows on the right side and one on the left side of a large single door. Both the door and the shutters were painted a deep burgundy. A covered porch only two yards deep extended the width of the front, and a narrow brick-paved lane on the left side of the building presumably led to stables and a rear courtyard. She turned and stepped up onto the narrow porch.

The tall and broad man who stood beside the door looked at Saryn, then at the three Westwind guards, still mounted, before he said, “I don't think you're welcome here.”

Saryn smiled politely. “I'm welcome. I'm here to see Haelora. I have a letter from her aunt in Henspa introducing me to her.”

“I said—” The man stopped, realizing that the short sword was at his throat.

“What's all this about?” Another man, older and paunchier, stepped out of the inn. His eyes flicked from Saryn to the armed guards and back to Saryn.

“I'm here to see Haelora. I have a letter of introduction from Jennyleu. Your man wants to keep me from her.” Saryn lowered the short sword only slightly.

Abruptly, the second man shook his head, almost ruefully. “You're an angel, aren't you?”

“Saryn. I'm the Arms-Commander of Westwind. I was asked to meet with the regents, but I've stopped at the Black Bull three times now…”

“Jennyleu couldn't resist sending you to see her niece.” He shook his head, then looked at the tall man. “Rhytter…don't ever cross one of the angels. I don't want to tell your family how you ended up dead.”

Rhytter's eyes narrowed. “You going to let them in here?”

“You want to die over it?”

“I think I'll be finding another job.” Rhytter turned and walked off the porch.

Saryn just waited, looking at the prematurely balding blond man who was probably younger than she was.

“Don't worry about it. He never has liked women all that much. I'm Vanadyl, Haelora's consort and half owner of this establishment.”

“Saryn.” She displayed the envelope. “From Jennyleu.”

“Come on in.”

Saryn followed Vanadyl inside and into a narrow foyer.

“Haelora! Got a surprise for you!”

The woman who hurried through the archway from the public room to the right wore a burgundy skirt and blouse, and a cream-colored apron. She looked at Saryn, as if not quite certain what to say.

“The angel here's got a letter from your aunt. Oh, she did what we couldn't. Rhytter said he wouldn't be working here anymore.”

“Fancy that.” Haelora was as blond as her husband, but unlike many of the women of Lornth, whose hair was long and either braided or bound back, hers was cut not that much longer than Saryn's. Also, unlike her husband, she was slender and muscular.

“This is from your aunt.” Saryn extended the envelope.

Haelora opened the envelope. When she finished the letter, she shook her head ruefully. “Only Aunt Jennyleu'd have the nerve. Says she owes her life to you.”

“I helped a little when she was ill earlier this summer.”

“More than a little if she put it in ink,” suggested Vanadyl.

“She writes that I'm to help you.” Haelora paused. “Begging your pardon, Angel, but what sort of help could a poor innkeeper provide?”

“Information.” Saryn looked at the younger woman. “We're here to help Lady Zeldyan. There seem to be a number of lords who feel like Rhytter did.”

“Glad he's gone,” replied Haelora with a laugh. “Wouldn't have been working here if he hadn't a been Ma's youngest cousin. Since he left on his own, I'm not obligated anymore. What sort of information?”

“What you hear. What people are worried about. How people feel about the regency.”

Haelora gestured to the public room. “Best we take one of the front tables. Folks know not to bother me there if I'm talking to someone. That's where I haggle with everyone.”

“And she haggles well,” added Vanadyl. “Otherwise, we'd not be in business.” He turned back toward the narrow desk against the wall, where a ledger lay open.

“But he keeps the accounts,” replied Haelora, leading the way into the public room and toward a table in the corner farthest from the archway, where she settled into a chair from which she could watch both the archway to the main foyer and the smaller archway to the kitchen.

“Do you have any children?” asked Saryn.

“Just Maryla. She's but eleven and one of the best cooks in Lornth. Runs the kitchen right well, she does. You wanted to know what worries folks? They worry that their wallets are too thin, and they don't see 'em getting any fatter. They don't see the regents doing much to help them. Leastwise, the Lady Zeldyan doesn't spray coins like Lord Nessil's consort did—a new dress every eightday. He wasn't much better, with all his gold-and-purple tunics.”

“What do people think about Lady Zeldyan?”

“I don't know as they think much, excepting she's trying to do her best. Most folk just want to have enough for small comforts and be left alone.”

“What about Lord Kelthyn?”

“Oh…Lord Snotnose…he near-on rode down old Bethamie last winter, then yelled at her for not getting out of his way, then talks real cultured to the fellow he's riding with. Can't say as many folks even pay much attention to him. I wouldn't know that much, save that Bethamie's daughter is Maryla's friend. Now…Lord Gethen, he's gentlefolk. Some of his armsmen come in here. Never heard a one speak ill of him, and more than a few tales of how he helped a widow or an orphan on his holding. Wouldn't be surprised if some wouldn't take a blade for him.”

“Did you ever hear anything about a Lord Keistyn?”

“Can't say as I have.”

“Henstrenn?”

“He's the Lord of Duevek, isn't he? Only thing I ever heard here is that he's been hiring armsmen, anywhere he can get them. Been doing it for nigh on three–four years. Have to wonder where he gets the golds, when most of the lords haven't been adding any armsmen at all.”

“What bothers you most these days?”

“Not having enough paying customers coming through the doors.” Haelora laughed.

Saryn laughed as well.

“You wouldn't know what's going on at the palace, would you?” asked the innkeeper. “Seems like we don't get near as many palace armsmen anymore.”

“I know one company went north to Lord Gethen's holding with the overlord-heir,” replied Saryn. “There are only half as many armsmen here now. But…” Saryn grinned. “You wouldn't mind if some of the Westwind guards came here when they're off duty?”

“Their coppers are as good as anyone's, aren't they?” Haelora smiled. “Besides, these days, it's not like we're turning away folks. We'll give 'em more for their coppers than most, and we don't water the beer or the wine.”

“That's good to know.” Saryn rose. “Thank you. You won't mind if I stop when I can?”

“That I wouldn't.” Haelora stood. “You'd be welcome anytime.”

As she left, Saryn just hoped that would always be the case.

In the end, Zeldyan decided that the first regency visit should be to Lord Barcauyn.

“That way,” she had explained to Saryn, “you will see for yourself how little the eastern border means to the holders of the west. Then we can make our way farther north to see Lord Maeldyn and possibly Spalkyn, then visit Lord Deolyn before heading back and stopping at The Groves on the way.”

“You think Deolyn will tell us something of the Suthyans?”

“Either in words or actions,” Zeldyan replied.

And that was how, after a ride of four days that took them slightly south and all too far west for Saryn's comfort, even with all of fourth squad and a squad of Maerkyn's armsmen, they entered the holding of Cauyna. In time, she found herself sitting on the expansive second-story terrace of Lord Barcauyn's villa, looking at the hills to the east beyond a meandering and placid stream, on the far side of which was the town of Arkyn. On that sevenday evening, the setting sun bathed the hills and the town in a reddish light, while the villa shaded the terrace, and a breeze from the east made the air almost pleasant for Saryn.

The comfortable cushioned wooden armchairs were set in a semicircle, facing outward, with Lady Zeldyan in the center chair, the gray-haired Barcauyn to her right, and Barcauyn's eldest son, Joncaryl, to her left. Saryn was seated beside Barcauyn, while another son, Belconyn, sat beside his older brother. Barcauyn's consort was nowhere to be seen.

“…a great surprise to see you, Lady Regent,” rumbled Barcauyn. “A most pleasant one, I must say. I had thought all your attention was devoted to the difficulties to the east.” He glanced toward Saryn. “The presence of the arms-commander gives me hope that now the regents might pay greater attention to our difficulties here.”

“There are difficulties everywhere these days,” replied Zeldyan. “How do you view the problems…to the north?”

“What problems? We had not the forces to hold Rulyarth, and we did not. The Suthyans wanted the port in a way that would have been far too costly for us to hold. Yet they will trade with any who care to trade. They care little for expanding, now they have reclaimed what they believe is theirs. On the other hand, that demon Deryll will bleed those of us in the west dry.”

“We will talk of Deryll in a moment,” Zeldyan said smoothly. “I have heard words that suggest the Suthyans have been in rather close contact with the Prefect of Gallos.”

Barcauyn laughed, a deep, rolling sound. “Most likely with his departed son.” He turned to Saryn. “I understand that Arthanos squandered an army of close to ten thousand men trying to retake the Roof of the World.”

“Nine thousand, Lord Barcauyn,” replied Saryn. “A few hundred escaped.” She paused, if briefly. “He may have thought of it as ‘retaking,' but as I understand matters, when the Marshal created Westwind, the lands in question were thought to belong to Lornth. Perhaps I should leave sleeping snakes cold, but I have great doubts that, had he been successful, Arthanos would have returned the lands on the Roof of the World to Lornth.”

“Ha! Right you may be, but it's not worth talking about, because your Marshal assured it didn't happen, and I've never seen much gain in jawing about how things might have been.”

“Nor I,” answered Saryn. “I only raised the point as an indication that Gallos and Suthya are not to be dismissed when considering what may happen.”

“In the future, when Karthanos dies, and he well may have already, from what I hear, there will be a contest over who will be the next prefect. That prefect will have to consolidate his power. Only then, and that will be years from now, will anyone need to fear Gallos, and I dare say that your Marshal will put a stop to any designs that prefect has on the west. The Suthyans always want someone else to fight for them, so that they can sell weapons and goods to both sides. So long as we do not fight, they cannot profit from selling weapons and food. But the west, that is where the threat to Lornth lies. If I look to the hills that mark the west of our holding, I see all that separates us from the Jeranyi. Beyond those hills are grassy plains stretching all the way to Bornt. Those are the demon-cursed grasslands that spawned the Jeranyi.” Barcauyn's voice was level but not free of the bitterness behind it. “You may not remember it, Lady Regent, for I was barely more than a boy when they last swept out of the hills into the western hamlets of the holding. They made off with hundreds of cattle and sheep and a score of women. I even knew one of the girls they took. Lovely thing.”

“You didn't go after her?” asked Saryn.

“It's a day's ride from there to here. My father did send me out to see what they had done and to offer some coins to those who lost livestock. The Jeranyi were long gone when we arrived, and trying to track them into the hills and out into the grasslands beyond…that would have been senseless.” Barcauyn shook his head. “After that, Ildyrom and his bitch consort turned to raiding the south, and little around Rohrn was spared. The one good thing that came out of the battles between the angel mages and the Cyadorans was the devastation that fell on Jerans. We've had ten years without a single raid, but the Jeranyi are riding again, and closer and closer to us.” He turned to Zeldyan. “That is why I fear the Jeranyi far more than those on any other border.”

“The Jeranyi are far greater devils than all others on our borders,” murmured Joncaryl.

Belconyn nodded, not quite enthusiastically.

“You make a strong argument, lord, and I hear your concerns.” Zeldyan smiled sadly. “Yet, as a child, I saw our armsmen at The Groves fending off Gallosian and Suthyan raiders, and those in Clynya were beset by the Cyadorans. Lord Deolyn has told me about Suthyans who were not so interested in trading as taking. On all sides are enemies.” She glanced to Saryn. “In the past ten years, the only land that has done much against our old enemies has been Westwind, sad as that may sound, and you know of my own grievous losses in regard to Westwind.”

“What does Westwind say, then, Arms-Commander?” asked Barcauyn.

“You know what we have faced with Gallos, and for the moment, they are less of a threat. After that, we tracked Suthyan armsmen up to the lands of Lornth. What they were doing there, we do not know, for we would not intrude in following them. The Suthyans have attempted both bribery and treachery to attempt to persuade Westwind to ally with them against Lornth. We have not. That is one reason why I am here.”

“Would you have us fight your battles, then?” Barcauyn's voice turned chill.

Saryn turned her eyes…and the flow of dark power…on the lord. “We ask no one to fight our battles. We came to the regents because Lornth has treated with us fairly, and we thought they should know what we had learned about Suthya and the traders' intent. We have no need and no desire for lands beyond what we hold.”

Barcauyn sat back in his chair, silent for a long moment.

Joncaryl frowned, as did his brother.

“Ah…” Barcauyn finally said. “I see now why you are arms-commander. Yet you seem more like a mage, for all the arms you bore when you rode in.”

“All the arms?” asked Joncaryl, adding quickly, before Saryn could respond, his voice light, not quite mocking, “I saw your guards—and you, Commander. Tell me…are those daggers the only weapons you have?”

“They're short swords, not daggers, and we also use bows.”

“The blades are really only long daggers, it looks like to me.”

“They can be very effective, especially in close combat,” replied Saryn.

“I don't see how, not against a proper blade,” pressed Joncaryl. “You give away far too much space.”

“They've proved that against anyone who's tried.” Saryn smiled politely.

“Then they couldn't have been very good with their blades…begging your pardon, Commander. And bows…well…they don't prove much about their wielder.”

Saryn could sense the inflexible arrogance of youth, yet felt as well that she could not afford to concede the point, not when the reputations of the Westwind Guard and Westwind itself were at stake. “So far, over ten years, Lord Joncaryl, every force that has attacked Westwind or her guards has failed, most killed to the last man.”

“That was because of magery, not skill at arms, at least from what I've heard.”

“Magery played a part in destroying whole armies. That I will concede, but in smaller conflicts settled only by arms, even when faced with larger forces, the guards triumphed overwhelmingly.”

“You'll pardon me—”

“Words seldom settle such matters of opinion,” interjected Barcauyn smoothly. “If I were younger, I'd give it a try in a thorough sparring, perhaps against you, Commander.” He shrugged. “I am too old to spar, but I would like to see how you might fare against a truly skilled man-at-arms, such as my son. Perhaps tomorrow?”

“I'd be most happy to demonstrate in sparring,” Saryn said, even as she knew that the contest had been a setup.

“Excellent!” Barcauyn beamed. “Now…if we might talk of other matters…ones more pleasant before we repair to the dining chamber to eat…”

Saryn understood. From that moment on, nothing of substance would be discussed, and tomorrow, she would have to prove what she and the guards could do with weapons—again.