Arms-Commander

XLVII

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.