Arms-Commander

XXI

Saryn’s eyes studied the narrow road that wound downward through a slope strewn with boulders, the smallest of which dwarfed her gelding. From the infrequent pockets of soil gathered on the sheltered side of the giant stones grew occasional junipers, few overtopping the rocks themselves. Another three kays below and to the west, the road reached the flat and grassy floor of the narrow river valley that stretched a good ten kays before entering another gorge, one that neither the road nor the guards could follow. Instead, they would have to climb, riding over another pass through the still-rugged lower range that was the last before the hills of eastern Lornth. With the white sun pounding down on the rock, Saryn had already removed her riding jacket and folded it into her saddlebags. Her undertunic stuck to her back in places. One-handed, she lifted the water bottle from its holder and took a long swallow.

As Saryn’s eyes and senses scanned the rocky waste ahead, for some reason, one of Ryba’s parting instructions came to mind, in particular, the way in which Ryba had worded it. She had stated that finding out about Lord Ildyrom’s son Deryll might prove useful to Saryn. Not to Westwind or Ryba, but to Saryn. Exactly what had Ryba meant? At the time, with her greater concern about what the high trader and the Suthyans were doing, Saryn had taken it as a guideline for her negotiations. Now she wasn’t so certain, especially since both Istril and Ryba had made similar statements. Just what had they foreseen? She knew why neither would tell her, but that didn’t make her any happier.

After another swallow, Saryn slipped the water bottle back into its holder and shifted her weight in the saddle, then turned to survey the riders who followed. No one was straggling. Her eyes flicked forward, toward the outriders, a good half kay ahead. They hadn’t seen anyone in at least a day, nor had she sensed anyone, but that would likely change before long.

“This makes Westwind look like a garden, ser,” observed Hryessa, riding for the moment beside Saryn.

“Compared to much of the Westhorns, Westwind is, and it’s much more comfortable than Lornth is going to be when we reach it.”

“For you, ser,” Hryessa replied with a grin. “Some of the guards still have their riding jackets fastened all the way up.”

“Ryba and Istril would be in undertunics by now, covered in sweat,” Saryn bantered back. “Maybe not that damp, because it’s dry here, but they’d be hot. Once we get where the air is damp…” She shook her head, although it would be another day before they emerged into the high hills southeast of Lornth.

“Do you think we’ll run into any brigands?”

“Not if they’re smart, but with those types, you never know. I’m more concerned about some of the local holders in Lornth. Trader Baorl likely stirred up trouble of some sort.”

“With men like that, you can count on it. We can handle it.” Hryessa’s tone was dismissive. “Men…”

“You seemed to have worked out things well enough with Daryn.”

“He’s different. He also knows what I’d do to him if he ever did anything wrong.”

Saryn laughed. “I think all Westwind knows that.”

“He likes Dealdron,” offered the guard captain.

“Did he say why?”

“He said that Dealdron works hard and doesn’t feel sorry for himself, and that he’s a crafter at heart.”

“But he’s trying to learn arms as well,” Saryn pointed out.

“It doesn’t get in his way of working in the carpentry shop, and Vierna says he’s better than anyone there but her and Dyosta.”

“He was an apprentice plasterer…”

“They have to work with wood a lot, not just stone. People want plaster everywhere, and they have to carve it into decorative shapes, too.”

“If he happened to be so good at it, why did he join the Gallosian armsmen?”

“Daryn says that was because his older brother was lame and couldn’t do anything else but help their father, and times were hard. There wasn’t work for two apprentices.”

Dealdron had told Saryn there had only been work for one apprentice, but not that his brother was disabled. She had to wonder what else she didn’t know about him.

“He works hard,” Hryessa repeated.

Saryn turned in the saddle to look squarely at the captain. “You’ve said that.”

Hryessa shrugged. “He seems to be a good man. He’s decent-looking, and he’s kind to the children. We don’t have many.”

“I argued with the Marshal to keep him alive and allow him to stay at Westwind.”

“That was good of you, Commander. It was wise, too. Some guard will be most fortunate to have him as a consort.”

“It’s too early for that. Less than a season isn’t enough to determine how Westwind suits a man, especially not until his leg is fully healed. Then we’ll see.”

Hryessa offered an embarrassed smile. “Ser…we already said something like that.”

“In my name, I’d wager? Don’t tell me that some of the guards were already making a play for him?”

“Ser…Daryn, the two woodcutters, and old Covyn are the only men left in Westwind.”

“And the Lornians who were crippled by the engineer.”

“I said ‘men,’ ser.”

“The healers and I have been working to get the Marshal to allow more men.”

“That’d be a good idea, and before too long.”

“I said that, too, Captain.”

“Yes, ser.” Hryessa’s voice was even and polite.

Saryn could sense a certain veiled amusement behind the words. “Would you mind telling me why you’re suddenly so concerned about Dealdron?”

“The trio have taken an interest in him, ser, but it’s like…sister-brother. The girls just a bit younger aren’t likely to be so wise.”

“And it might not stay sister-brother for the trio, either. Is that what you’re telling me?”

“No, ser. The trio are real clear about their feelings. You can see it in the way they act with him and the way he acts with them. But that won’t last with the others.”

Saryn could sense that Hryessa was absolutely certain about the trio and Dealdron, but there was something else there. “What else?”

“Nothing that I could say, ser.”

Saryn wasn’t going to get any more out of Hryessa. When the captain didn’t want to say more, she didn’t, and nothing changed that.

“Do any of the younger ones make plays for Daryn?” she asked, more to indicate she wasn’t about to press than to seek information Hryessa wasn’t about to provide.

“Not more than once,” replied the captain with a laugh.

If so many of the guards hadn’t been so badly beaten and abused, or disliked men in general, the problem would have come up even sooner. In a way, Saryn was surprised, in hindsight, that it hadn’t surfaced before, but then some of the emotional scars were fading, and some of the junior guards had come to Westwind as young girls with their mothers. They’d been young enough that they didn’t have quite the same level of negativity as the older guards.

All that just reinforced Istril’s concerns about the need to change matters with regard to men, and that was likely to result in more tension between Saryn and Ryba. Yet Istril was right, and Hryessa’s comments just reinforced that concern.

Still, there wasn’t anything Saryn could do at the moment, either about Dealdron or men in general. She had to admit, for all of her initial skepticism, that Dealdron seemed to be a good person…but there was something about the way he looked at her when he didn’t think she was watching, not that she felt anything wrong or negative…but…still…

She shook her head, then scanned the road ahead, but she sensed no others besides those from Westwind.