Arms-Commander

XXXII

Ryba and Saryn returned to Westwind late on sixday, and Saryn started working on her own expedition sevenday morning. She assigned Hryessa’s fourth squad, two carts, plus the two decent wagons of those that she had brought back from Lornth. Standing just downhill from the smithy, Saryn watched while Huldran, Ydrall, Cessya, and Nunca loaded empty penetrators into the two wagons. Huldran had added a metal loop on each funnel so that the penetrators could be lowered on a rope, as necessary. The two carts were at the powder house beyond the quarry, where the kegs of finished powder were being loaded.

Except for fourth squad, whose guards were getting their gear together, the remainder of the guards were on the arms practice field, sparring. Saryn’s eyes drifted across the groups, then stopped on Dealdron and the trio, who were on the section of the field immediately below the smithy. There was something happening there, involving order, but Saryn couldn’t sense what it might be. She waited until Huldran and Cessya had lowered another iron funnel and plug plate into the first wagon, then said, “I need to check something. I shouldn’t be too long.”

“Yes, ser.”

With that, Saryn eased down the slope, at enough of an angle, she hoped, that it wasn’t obvious that she was more interested in the trio and Dealdron than in the newer guards toward whom her steps appeared to be directed. Although Dealdron still wore the heavy splint, he was moving more easily than he had an eightday earlier, and his blocks and parries were much surer. Dyliess was attacking him with her weighted wand, and, as sure as some of the young man’s moves were, Dyliess still wove her wand through and around his efforts enough that she struck him on his good thigh once and got a solid crack on his ribs another time.

The use of order wasn’t coming from Dyliess, Saryn realized, but from Aemra, who was somehow using it to help Dealdron anticipate Dyliess’s attacks. She continued to try to sense what the youngest of the trio was doing, but from what she could tell, somehow Aemra was not so much guiding Dealdron’s moves as making him more aware of what Dyliess was doing.

Saryn had never seen order-skills used quite that way, let alone by girls who weren’t even properly women yet, but it was clear from the way Aemra was helping the Gallosian that she, and doubtless the other two, had been doing something like that for a time. If they had used that skill among themselves, that did explain why they performed so much better than would have been normal for even skilled junior guards.

Abruptly, Aemra glanced from Dealdron to Saryn, then back to Dealdron, but Dealdron did not falter, even when Aemra stopped helping him. He did get hit again, if by a glancing blow.

Saryn could only obtain the sense that Aemra was measuring something…and that it involved Saryn. What ever heritage they had received from their parents, especially from their father, made it difficult, if not impossible, for Saryn to sense much of what Aemra was feeling, but then she had been able to do so less and less as the three had grown older.

“Aemra…a moment.” Saryn’s words were not a question.

“Yes, ser.” The youngest of the trio walked away from the two who continued to spar.

“You were using a touch of order to help Dealdron learn moves.”

“Yes, ser. We had to.” Aemra kept her voice low, so low that Saryn could barely hear her. “He’s strong enough, ser, but he doesn’t have any sense of where the blades go, where they can strike. We’re using a lot less. He’s almost got it, now.”

“Why?” asked Saryn.

“It’s not like that, ser. He’s…”

“Like a clumsy big brother,” added Kyalynn, who had followed Aemra. Her voice was also low and intense, as if she didn’t want Dealdron or anyone else but Saryn to hear. “He was going to get himself hurt bad if we didn’t help.” She shot a glance at Aemra.

Saryn caught that the look was a warning, but couldn’t sense about what Kyalynn was cautioning the younger girl. “Does the Marshal know this?”

“No, ser,” interjected Kyalynn. “Please don’t tell her. We’re almost done, and you wouldn’t want him killed.”

“We helped him enough so he can defend himself against lowlanders,” added Aemra.

Saryn hadn’t thought that Ryba would have Dealdron killed, but when order and her daughter were concerned…Still, while Saryn couldn’t sense all that much from the trio, two things were clear. There was no love, lust, or romantic attachment involved, and the three really were just trying to give the young man what amounted to a chance at obtaining the skill to be able to defend himself.

“Why?” she repeated.

“Mother says…we need him, and so do you,” replied Aemra. “We were just trying to help, because no one else was.”

“He…he’s like a puppy dog,” added Kyalynn.

Saryn wanted to laugh at the efforts the two were making to conceal something, and she probably would have-if she’d been able to determine what they really had in mind. But she could only sense what they didn’t have in mind. “What are you two hiding?” The question was worth asking, if only to see their reaction.

“We’re not hiding anything,” protested Aemra indignantly. “We’re just trying to help you.”

“If we get him so he can defend himself,” added Kyalynn, “then he can do what ever you need him to do.”

Both statements were true, and both girls believed them…but there was more, and Saryn knew she wasn’t going to get to what ever else was there. She finally did laugh. “All right. Don’t hurt him too badly, and listen to your mothers.”

“Yes, ser.”

Saryn turned away and started back toward the smithy.

“Saryn!”

At the sound of the Marshal’s voice, the arms-commander turned again and headed toward Ryba, who was walking over from the east side of the practice field.

“What was all that about?” asked Ryba.

“I wanted to know how they felt Dealdron was coming and if he’d had enough training so that he could spend more time with Siret doing stonework.”

A brief look of amusement crossed the Marshal’s face. “He probably does know enough to defend himself. The girls can be quite thorough. How soon before you leave?”

“Another glass or so. We’re loading out now.”

“Good. I got another report. Arthanos is still getting supplies, and the scouts think he returned to Fenard. If that’s so, we have several days, possibly more, but I’ll keep you posted.”

“I’d appreciate that,” Saryn replied politely.

“It would still be good if you placed everything as soon as possible. Then take a position there and wait for us. Take care. I’ll see you in about an eightday.” With a nod, Ryba headed back toward Tower Black.

Saryn hurried toward the smithy and the carts, still pondering her exchange with the girls and Ryba’s reaction. The Marshal could be most protective of the trio, and yet, for all of Ryba’s former doubts and concerns about Dealdron, she hadn’t seemed in the slightest worried about the three sparring with the young Gallosian. She’d been amused…but about what? It couldn’t just have been about the bruises Dealdron was taking, could it?

Comforting as that might have been, Saryn didn’t think so.