Arms-Commander (40 page)

Haelora shook her head. “I cannot say…for I do not know what you do.”

“You know I am a stranger in a strange land.”

“You are, and yet you are not. You look like a young woman, except in your eyes, but you are not. Those eyes have seen what I would not wish to have seen…”

Saryn waited.

“Do not worry about the people of Lornth, except to save them from the worst of the lords. We can live through anything except the worst of weakness and of evil. Even that, we will survive.” Haelora smiled, faintly, but not unhappily. “Thank you for coming. I will tell others, and your guards are always welcome here.”

“Thank you.” Saryn nodded politely. “I must go.”

As she left the public room, she could sense Haelora watching her.
Why does everyone watch me leave? Because they want me to go, or because I'm something strange that they've never seen? Or both?

She didn't have an answer to that…or to more than a few other questions.

Early as she had been up the day before, Saryn was up earlier on threeday and meeting with Hryessa in the small space at the west end of the barracks, assigned to the captain as a company officer.

“You've checked the platform and the scaffold?” asked Saryn.

“Yes, ser. The ropes are in place, and they'll hold her tight.” Hryessa looked at Saryn. “I can't say as I like doing this in public.”

“We do it anywhere else, and someone will claim we were hiding something or that we really didn't do it at all, and that they saw Fynna in Rohrn or Carpa or who knows where else. It's going to be a show, no matter what we do,” Saryn said gruffly. “So we need to make it a good show—one that demonstrates that we mean what we say and that no one should mess with us, either. Besides, you have to deal with Sineada.”

“That's just a whipping. She'll recover, and she might learn something from it,” replied Hryessa. “You…that's different. You sure you want to do it, Commander?” asked Hryessa, her voice deferential. “We could use an ax.”

“Do I
want
to? No. Do I have to? Yes. It sends a message that even the Commander of the Westwind Guard knows weapons…and needs to be treated with the same respect as any male commander.”

“Men don't—”

“They don't have to. Everyone believes that they can. In Lornth, they don't believe that about women, and we have to change that.”
As quickly as possible.

At that, Hryessa nodded.

“Now…can we mount three squads?”

“I'd figured that, one squad on each side of the space you'll need, and one squad behind, with two guards on the platform for each of them to tie her up.”

“They can handle Fynna if she gets wild?”

“Those two can. Zelha grew up tossing steers, and Marha is just as tough. If they'd been with Fynna, been a different matter.”

“Good.”

Once they had the details worked out, Saryn spent some time sharpening both her blades, then doing what amounted to a casual inspection of barracks and stables. Both were far neater and cleaner than when they had first come to Lornth.

At half a glass before noon, the procession from the palace began with a mournful trumpet fanfare from the gate tower. Mournful, but off-key. That was just another part of the palace staff where competence was less than marginal.
Is that true of all small kingdoms…or is Lornth worse?

Saryn didn't have an answer to that question, like she didn't to so many others, and she watched as the first squad rode out and drew up in a north–south line, each rider facing east, and the first rider close enough to the stone platform that the nose of her mount was even with the west–southwest corner. The second squad rode out and took position in a line opposite the first, the distance between them the width of the platform. Then came three guards, with Rheala and Hoilya from fourth squad escorting Sineada—the girl who had been discovered stealing—with her hands tied before her. Behind them came Zelha and Marha, with Fynna between them, her hands tied behind her. Marha held the leads to Fynna's mount. Saryn and Hryessa, riding slowly, followed, accompanied by Agala, who rode slightly behind them. Behind them rode the third group of riders—the remainder of fourth squad, led by Klarisa.

Zelha and Marha led Fynna's mount directly to the stone platform in the middle of the green, from which three gallows trees rose, none of which seemed to have been used recently. They waited until Saryn and Hryessa had reined up, some ten yards short of the platform, and until fourth squad took position as an east–west line, so that the guards formed three sides of a rectangle, with the platform comprising the fourth side.

As Saryn and Hryessa waited, Rheala and Hoilya reined up at the steps on the left end of the platform, and the other two halted the three mounts at the right end. Saryn studied the crowd. From what she could see, there were more than a hundred townspeople present, possibly twice that.

Rheala and Hoilya tied the three mounts, then marched the trembling Sineada up to a space between two gallows tree supports and tied her wrists and ankles in place, then stepped back. Hryessa rode forward to the platform, with Agala riding behind her. When the guard captain dismounted, she handed the reins to the guard and climbed the five steps to the platform, carrying a whip.

“You have stolen from those you were trusted to protect,” said Hryessa. “That is theft, and you will receive ten lashes from the whip. If you are ever found stealing again, you will be executed.”

While Saryn wasn't totally happy about that, a second offense of serious theft was a death sentence in most of Candar, and she wasn't about to try to change it.

Hryessa did not shy away from using close to full force of the whip, until the end, when Saryn could tell that the guard captain pulled the last two lash strokes.

After the last lash, Hryessa stood back and raised the whip. “Justice is done. You are hereby banished from Lornth and will be sent to Rohrn to make your way there as you can.”

Hoilya and Rheala untied Sineada and half marched, half carried her to the mount that had brought her to the platform. Then they set her on the horse and mounted beside her, moving close enough to support her, if necessary.

Hryessa returned to her mount, and she and Agala rode back to take position beside Saryn. The three—and all the other guards—waited until Marha and Zelha marched a shuddering Fynna into position and tied her there.

Then Saryn eased the gelding forward, just two yards, and spoke, using a touch of order to amplify her words across the green.

“You have killed two people you were entrusted to protect, and you used the weapon you were given to protect them. That is murder, twice over. The sentence is death by the very weapon you misused.”

Saryn summoned the darkness and the flows, then stood in the stirrups, and drew and threw the short sword, smoothing and guiding its flight.

“No!!!”

The weapon sliced through Fynna's chest, burying itself to its hilt and cutting off her last scream. Her body jerked but once, then went limp.

The entire green was silent as Saryn rode forward to the execution platform.

There, the two guards moved to the body. Zelha removed the short sword and stepped to the front edge, where she tendered the bloody blade to the commander.

Saryn raised the blade and spoke, once more letting order magnify her stern words. “Justice is done, under the Code of the Guard and the laws of Lornth. Let this be a warning to any who might consider breaking either.”

Saryn remained motionless, still holding the blade, while the two guards cut the body loose and carried it to the horse that Fynna had ridden, laying it facedown and sideways across the saddle before they re-mounted their horses. Saryn tried to use her senses to gather an impression of what the townspeople felt, but the greatest impressions she got were that, while the thrown short sword had stunned most of the onlookers, most felt that the punishments had been too quick and that both women should have suffered more.

People…
She refrained from shaking her head and waited until the four guards dealing with Sineada and the dead figure of Fynna were in position before the platform and ready to ride. Then she looked to Hryessa.

“Guards! Return!” ordered Hryessa.

Fourth squad led the return procession to the palace courtyard.

As she and Hryessa rode slowly back, Saryn glanced to the guard captain. “They didn't want a whipping and an execution. They wanted public torture.”

“Of course,” replied Hryessa. “It was good that you threw the sword. That way, no one will complain in public. They will mutter, but they will not say more where we can hear it.”

Once they were in the courtyard, in front of the stables, after dismounting, Saryn cleaned the blade, and her hands, before unsaddling the gelding.

When she was finished, she left the stables, heading for the palace. Dealdron was helping with the burial detail, such as it was. Not a single Lornian armsman was in sight, except for the four with gate duty.

Saryn's next duty was to report to the regent, and she made her way to Zeldyan's study. The regent was waiting, with a carafe and two goblets of red wine. She motioned to the chair across the small table from her.

Saryn took it. “It's done.”

“I saw. I watched the execution and whipping from the tower. Several hundred people were there. It looked most impressive.” Zeldyan paused. “What if you had missed?”

“I would have looked very foolish. But I didn't miss. I can't afford to.”

“No, you cannot. You are wise to understand that.”

“Those who watched were looking for torture. I'm afraid we disappointed them.” Saryn didn't bother to keep all the irony out of her voice.

“You also frightened them. They left the green quickly.” Zeldyan sipped her wine, then looked up. “The courier returned from The Groves. They rode much of the night both ways.”

Saryn couldn't sense grief or despair. “So far, your father's seen no sign of Kelthyn's company of armsmen?”

Zeldyan nodded. “At least he knows, and he and Gadsyn can prepare. The courier might have reached The Groves before Kelthyn's armsmen. The old east road is much longer.”

“They might be headed elsewhere.”

“He's sending his own messengers to the others in the north.”

“You've done what you can,” Saryn said.

“I have heard those words before, Saryn. When all goes wrong, they are cold comfort.”

“We have to take comfort where we can.” Saryn took a sip of the wine before continuing. “There's another matter…much smaller. One of our ostlers came with the last wagon from Westwind. He has been checking the feed for the horses, and the grain contains quite a bit of chaff and the tiny oats that are mostly hulls…”

“I will talk to the steward.” Zeldyan smiled coolly. “I will tell him that you are concerned about the quality of the feed.”

“Perhaps, at least, you could pay less or obtain more…” suggested Saryn.

“For a time, and then, when we are gone or occupied with greater matters, they will return to putting chaff and the poorer oats in the feed.”

Saryn nodded, not in agreement, but in understanding.

“Do you know what is the saddest of all of this?”

Saryn was afraid she knew, but she merely shook her head.

“Those who have helped me more in the past season and watched my back are those who killed my consort, while those who claim to be my lords and people scheme to bring me and my son down.”

“Where would you like us to visit next?” asked Saryn.

“We might try Kelthyn. If he has a company elsewhere, he might be more welcoming.” Zeldyan took another sip of wine. “Or perhaps Keistyn. Think it over, and tell me what you think in the morning.”

“I will.” Saryn didn't press. Zeldyan was waiting for something, and what ever it might be was unlikely to be good. “We'll be doing some mounted drills later this afternoon, mainly with the newer guards.”

“They already do not look much different from the others.”

“They still have much to learn.”
And little time in which to learn it.
“If you will excuse me.”

“Of course.” Zeldyan's smile was faint, concealing some sort of worry, but not, Saryn thought, about her or the Westwind guards.

Most likely about Nesslek…or her father—or both.

In the meantime, Saryn and Hryessa had all too much training to do.

Despite Zeldyan's words, it was close to midday on fiveday when Lyentha appeared in the courtyard where Saryn and Hryessa were working with the wooden wands to develop the blade skills of the recruit guards.

Saryn sensed the young woman's approach and stepped back. “Yes, Lyentha?”

“At your convenience, Commander, Lady Zeldyan would appreciate a word with you. She is in her upstairs study.”

“You can tell the lady I will be there in a few moments.”

“Yes, Commander.” Lyentha hurried off, clearly relieved.

“What do you think it is, ser?” murmured Hryessa.

“Nothing good. There have been too many messengers, and none of them have worn purple. We're going to have to ride somewhere and fight someone. This time, if it comes to that, I'll take first squad and whichever recruit squad is farthest along.”

“They're really not ready, ser.”

“I know that, but from what I've seen, they're as good as the locals.” Saryn glanced at the waiting recruits. “Keep working them. I don't want to keep the regent waiting, and I hate postponing bad news that can only get worse.”

Hryessa nodded understandingly just before Saryn turned and walked across the courtyard toward the palace.

Lyentha was standing outside the study door and opened it as Saryn approached. “The commander is here, Lady.”

Saryn had barely cleared the doorway when the door closed behind her.

Zeldyan turned from the window farthest to the right. “If you would, Saryn, I have received some messages. I would like you to read the one from Lord Jharyk first.” She extended a heavy sheet of parchment that had been folded and sealed rather than placed in an envelope.

Saryn took it and read, her eyes coming back to the key phrases.

“That's effectively blackmail,” Saryn said. “If you don't help him…”

“Exactly,” replied Zeldyan. “It does not help that he has always been lax in maintaining armsmen because he claims that too many of them will drive a lord-holder to ruin. Lord Nessil almost took his holding years back in order to give it to a stronger lord-holder.”

Another type who wants someone else to shed their blood because defense isn't cost-effective.
“Why didn't he?”

“He always paid his tariffs on time. He still does. Now…if you will read this one.”

Saryn took the second sheet, which had been sealed inside an envelope, and began to read the words beneath the blue-and-gray seal.

The seal and signature were those of Jaffrayt.

Blue and gray?
Saryn looked up. “Do Jaffrayt's armsmen wear blue and gray?”

“I would think so. Those are his colors.”

“This wasn't the only one, was it? There were a number of messengers.”

“Yes, there were,” replied Zeldyan. “There were similar missives from Lord Rherhn of Khalasn, Lord Orsynn of Cardara, and Lord Keistyn. Kelthyn wrote expressing concerns that the regency was not meeting the needs of the lord-holders. Shartyr's letter was less demanding. He just expressed a need for agreement among all the lord-holders in dealing with Lornth's future.”

“So that he could claim to the others that he'd also written you but without declaring directly his opposition to you and the regency.”

“He has met you. The others who wrote have not.”

“If I'm counting correctly,” Saryn pointed out, “you've received six letters of complaint or threat. That doesn't count Henstrenn, who's already shown where he stands, even if he hasn't put it in writing. How many of the remaining southern lords might support the regency, besides Lord Jharyk?”

“There are eight lord-holders in the south, now that there is no lord-holder of Rohrn. The only one who has not made his feelings known is Lord Mortryd of Tryenda. Although he is not actually in the south, Lord Mortryd tends to follow the southern lord-holders.”

“I can take two squads, one of regulars and one of recruits.” Saryn paused. “We'll need a guide, and I think we should leave under the cover of darkness. Outside of the palace, few know how many guards we have here now, anyway.”

“You would do this?”

Do I have any choice?
“If Jharyk and Lord Mortryd back the regency, with the holders of the north, most of the lord-holders will be behind you. If you don't send some help to Jharyk…”

“Then much may be lost.” Zeldyan paused. “I should send a squad of armsmen with you.”

“One squad…those who rode with us before, I think. We will leave tonight after dark.”

“Let me send for Undercaptain Maerkyn to meet me in a glass. Then, before he arrives, I will tell you what you should know about Lord Jharyk.” Zeldyan shrugged. “I would tell you of the Jeranyi, but there is little I can say except that they ride and strike quickly, then vanish into the plains or hills.”

Wonderful. Trying to combat guerrilla warfare on horse back while helping a lord whose support is lukewarm at best.

Zeldyan lifted the bell on the table and rang it once.

The door opened, and Lyentha stood there. “Yes, Lady?”

“Please summon Undercaptain Maerkyn to meet me here in about a glass.”

Lyentha nodded and closed the door.

Zeldyan gestured to the chairs and the table. “We might as well sit down while I tell you what I know.”

Saryn took the seat across from the regent.

“Jharyk does not merely venerate golds. He worships them more obsessively than the ancient Cyadorans did their long-lost chaos-towers. He also obsesses over women, in a differing fashion, since he is now on his fourth consort, for various calamities befell all the others…”

Saryn listened, even while thinking,
And we have to help this excuse of a lord so that all Lornth doesn't fall into revolt and into the Suthyan Council's hands…or purses? There has to be a better way…
Except that she couldn't think of one, not with the limited resources she had.

Almost exactly a glass later, at least by the sand-glass on the top of the bookcase, Zeldyan finished by saying, “I don't know how much of that will prove useful, but that is what I know.”

“I think all of it will be useful in one way or another. It's always what you don't know that causes trouble.” Saryn rose. “I'd best start getting the guards ready.”

As she stepped out of the study and started down the steps, she found Undercaptain Maerkyn headed up. The undercaptain stopped and stepped to the side of the staircase.

“Undercaptain,” said Saryn in greeting, “a word with you, if you please.”

“I'd be most happy, if I can be of assistance, Commander.”

“What do you know about Lord Jaffrayt?”

“Besides the fact that he's said to be a direct descendant of the Pantarans, not much.” Maerkyn shook his head.

“The Pantarans?”

“Oh…you wouldn't know that, Commander. There aren't any Pantarans. They don't exist. Whenever the old-timers wanted to blame someone, they blamed it on the Pantarans…”

“You're saying that he's a nobody? Or that his family came from nowhere?”

Maerkyn nodded. “That's what they say when they talk about people who claim to be more than they are.”

Saryn wondered how many more expressions she'd either missed or had to learn. “Is there anything else?”

“They say he doesn't pay his armsmen very well.”

That figures.
“And?”

“Other than that…I don't know. I'm from the north, near Carpa.”

“Thank you.” Saryn nodded and continued down the steps, then out across the courtyard.

Hryessa had to have been watching, because she said something to Shalya, who stepped forward to take over the drills as Hryessa moved away from the guards and met Saryn.

“Were you right, ser?”

“Close enough. We're going to a place called Nuelda, and we need to leave after dark tonight, as quietly as possible. Deryll—he's the Jeranyi lord or chief or whatever—he's sending raiders there. Lord Jharyk is one of the few southern lords supporting the regency, and he's not equipped to deal with them.”

“The weakest hen house is the one that always wants guard dogs. They usually don't want to feed them, either.”

“Something like that. Nuelda is a hundred kays southwest of here. It might be more. I don't trust anyone's distance estimates. Lady Zeldyan is sending one squad of her armsmen, under my command, and I'll take first squad and whichever recruit squad…”

“Second squad. I've moved Yulia from fourth squad to be squad leader, and put two of the recruits in fourth squad as replacements.”

“Can you handle any more recruits?” Saryn asked.

“We're still getting a few. Not so many as before. That might change if word gets around to the other towns. You think we'll need them?”

“We'll need every blade we can train. And every one Daryn can forge.”

“I've told him that. He grumbles, but he works hard. Dealdron has been talking to the other ostlers. He might be able to get ahold of a few more horses…ones that he can work with.”

“Ones that are trouble but that he can train? We can't afford many others.”

“Just capture as many as you can, ser.” Hryessa grinned. “We've done pretty well that way.”

Saryn shook her head. “We need to go inside and go over the supplies.”

The two walked toward the barracks and the small space that served as Hryessa's study.