Arms-Commander

LII

After a good night’s sleep and a leisurely breakfast with Zeldyan and the women of Quaryn, Saryn retrieved the weighted wands from her gear and brought them to the courtyard directly behind the rear porch. Both Ilys and Abaya were waiting, dressed in exercise tunics and trousers and riding boots.

“Why do you use the shorter blades?” asked Abaya.

“Because they’re more useful in a wider range of circumstances. Also, they’re better suited as a weapon for women, especially on horse back.”

“But the blades Father uses are much longer…” Ilys didn’t finish the sentence.

“I can throw my blades farther than his reach.” Saryn kept her voice even.

“I saw what you did at Cauyna,” said Zeldyan from the porch, where she sat with Anyna. “If it’s not too…intrusive, might I ask how many men you’ve killed by throwing a blade?”

Saryn glanced up at the regent. “I’ve never kept track, but it’s well over a score, perhaps two or three times that.”

For just a moment, Anyna’s face froze, and Saryn could sense the shock.

“You should understand that Westwind has been under attack in some way every year. Just this year, I’ve been in three battles or skirmishes. In every one, we’ve been outnumbered. The only way you can survive those odds is to kill them without suffering many casualties.”

Zeldyan nodded. The surprise slowly faded from Anyna’s face, but not from within her.

“Can’t you just drive them away?” asked Abaya.

“That doesn’t work. They’d just come back, and that means twice as much risk for us. They have thousands of armsmen. We only have hundreds of women…and their children.”

“Do you have children?”

“No. The Marshal does, but I don’t. Her daughter is about your age.” Saryn picked up one of the wands and handed it to the younger daughter. “We’ll start with one.” Then she stepped back. “Take your position.”

Abaya immediately took a stance.

“Put your feet a little closer together. They don’t have to be quite so far apart with a shorter and less weighty blade…”

A glass or so later, Saryn stepped back. “I think that’s enough for today.”

“Oh…” came from Abaya. “I was just getting better.”

“Thank you,” said Ilys, smiling and inclining her head.

“Thank you,” added the younger sister quickly before turning and looking up at her mother on the porch. “She’s very good.”

“I know. I watched her. Now…go get cleaned up so that you’ll look presentable for your father. I hope it won’t be that long before he arrives.”

“Yes, Mother.” Abaya nodded, then looked to Saryn. “Father lets us exercise and ride and spar, but only if we look like ladies the rest of the time.”

Once Abaya and Ilys had left, Saryn said, “Lord Maeldyn sounds unlike other lords with respect to his daughters.”

“Maeldyn is quite aware of both the proprieties and the realities.” Anyna laughed. “He’s also cognizant that they tend to conflict. Thank you for taking the time with them.”

“How could I not, when so few girls are given the chances that you’ve given yours?”

“Do you train all the girls at Westwind?” asked Zeldyan.

“When they’re old enough.” There was a moment of silence before Saryn spoke. “If you’d excuse me, I’d like to check with the guards.”

“Oh…don’t let us keep you. We’re not exactly going anywhere. I do hope it won’t be that long before Maeldyn returns.”

Saryn wasn’t certain whether she should be eager for the lord’s return or not as she made her way farther along the courtyard until she found Klarisa. The squad leader had just finished sparring drills and turned. “Commander.”

“Squad leader. How are matters?”

“The quarters are good. They have showers. The stables are clean, and there was plenty of food for breakfast, and even some fowl eggs with porridge and bread.”

“And your guards and mounts?”

“Garlya’s mount is lame, but we brought two spares. How long will we be here?”

“Until tomorrow, at least, possibly a day longer, but I wouldn’t count on that.”

“Then we will wash everything we can now.”

Saryn nodded. “How are things going with the Lornian armsmen?”

“They are very respectful.” Klarisa grinned. “They have been even more respectful since you sparred with Lord Barcauyn’s son.”

Saryn’s smile was as much sad as wry. Again, respect came only at the edge of a blade.

Later, after Saryn had washed up and after a light midday meal, Saryn, Zeldyan, and Anyna were talking on the northern porch when Lady Maeldyn pointed to the northeast.

“I do believe I see Maeldyn and Chaeldyn on the ridge trail. It won’t be all that long before they’re in the courtyard.”

Saryn followed the gesture and was slightly surprised to see that there were only six riders and two pack horses, certainly a small party for hunting, from what she had heard about the massive hunts with scores of men and staff. As she watched, no more riders emerged from the woods, and the six finally entered the north end of the long courtyard through the open gates.

“They’re not bringing back that much game,” observed Zeldyan.

“Maeldyn brings what we need,” replied Anyna. “We don’t maintain that large an establishment here. There are only about thirty armsmen here and just five staff. Of course, Maeldyn also pays the twenty armsmen who are patrollers in Ryntal, Hendyn, and Corsaera, and he can call them up as necessary.”

So Lord Maeldyn was supplying the patrollers who kept peace in the towns?

“Do other lords follow that practice?” asked Saryn.

“My father does,” replied Zeldyan, “and Lord Deolyn might. I think it used to be more common, especially here in the north.”

Before that long, the riders had reined up outside the stables and dismounted. One, presumably Lord Maeldyn, spent some time talking to a youth before turning and walking quickly past the courtyard fountain and toward the mansion.

As the lord strode up to the porch, Saryn studied him with both her eyes and her senses. Maeldyn was of medium height, less than a span taller than Saryn, and thin-faced, with a long chin and narrow lips that imparted the impression of dour grimness. His thinning hair was black but without a trace of gray. His tunic and trousers were a light brown, close to tan, and his riding boots were polished dark brown.

Once he climbed the five steps to the rear porch, his first gesture was to step forward and wrap his arms around Anyna. “I’m home, dearest. Chaeldyn is settling the mounts and gear.” After that brief but warm gesture, he turned to Zeldyan. “Lady Regent.” Then he faced Saryn. “You must be the arms-commander.” Maeldyn’s voice was cool and clipped, and his brown eyes seemed almost flat.

“I’m Saryn, Lord Maeldyn.”

“Maeldyn will do here at Quaryn. More than do.” The warmth of his fleeting smile was totally at odds with his voice and severe demeanor. “If you ladies will excuse me, it has been a long ride, and I’d prefer to be somewhat more presentable.”

“Of course, dear,” replied Anyna. “I’ll have the girls ready wine for when you join us. Supper will be ready at the usual glass.”

“Thank you.” Maeldyn nodded to the three women. “I will return shortly, but I doubt you will miss me.” A quick grin creased his thin face before he turned and headed inside.

Saryn had to admit to herself that he was anything but what she had expected, especially after her previous experiences with Lornian lords.

“I thought he would be back soon,” said Anyna.

Before long, Ilys and Abaya appeared with carafes of wine and a tray with small pastries. Not that long after the girls set the two trays in place, Chaeldyn appeared, a youth not quite fully mature with his father’s thin face, but with green eyes and just enough roundness in his cheeks that he looked merely serious rather than dour. He took a chair between his sisters, offering a “Good afternoon, your graces,” with a nod to the regent, Saryn, and his mother, in that order.

“It won’t be long, now,” said Anyna.

As she finished her words, Maledyn stepped out onto the porch. “Ah…lovely afternoon.”

Saryn wouldn’t have called it lovely, but bearable, on the shaded porch with a light breeze out of the north, but she nodded polite agreement.

Only after Anyna had filled all the wineglasses did she turn to her consort and ask, “How was the hunting, dear?”

“We took care of what was needed. We tracked and killed the two boars who were rooting into the gardens and fields near Hendyn, and we let the locals kill some of the excess deer north and east of town here. They’ve been encroaching on the orchards, and that’s not good for the harvests. They like the pearapples, especially…”

As Maeldyn summarized the hunting trip, Saryn noted that, while the three children were included, their chairs were set back just slightly, so that they did not break the line of sight between adults, and that they remained quiet, unless addressed directly. She also could sense that, even beyond his words, Maeldyn didn’t like hunting but regarded it as a necessary duty.

“…and I was happy to get your message, dear, and to learn that the regent and the arms-commander were visiting.” Maeldyn lifted his goblet and took a small swallow. “Good, especially after a long ride.” Then he looked to Saryn. “I imagine the hunting is something on the Roof of the World.”

“We have red deer and some mountain boars. The snow leopards can be a real problem in winter. Hunting when the snow’s over your head, even on skis, gets to be a chore quickly.”

Maeldyn glanced at Abaya. “You had a question?”

“Yes, Father.” The youngest child looked at Saryn. “How deep does the snow get? Is it like that all winter?”

“The snow starts to fall in late harvest, but except on the ice fields, it doesn’t stick until midfall. By the time winter starts, it’s thigh deep in many places. By midwinter, it’s higher than I am. We do use horses to pull scrapers and plows to keep some of the roads mostly open, but just the ones around Westwind.”

“How do you keep the water from freezing?” asked Anyna.

“We have fired-clay pipes from one spring, and they’re deeply buried. They go into a cistern in Tower Black.” Saryn shook her head. “The showers in the winter can be very cold.”

“Water piped into the tower,” commented Maeldyn. “Most ingenious.”

“Most necessary when it would freeze solid otherwise.”

“What other ingenious devices do you have?”

“We do what we can.” Saryn shrugged. She wasn’t about to get into stoves and overshot waterwheels.

“I don’t think the commander is going to share too many secrets,” observed Maeldyn. “I can’t say that I blame her.”

Saryn sensed no anger behind the lord’s words, merely quiet amusement, as if he had expected her response.

Maeldyn nodded to his son.

“Commander, ser, I heard that when Lord Sillek attacked Westwind, the angels hurled fires so great that all but a handful of men were burned to ashes. Ah…sometimes…stories…” Chaeldyn did not finish the question.

“What you heard was true,” Saryn said. “We still wish it had not been necessary. That is one reason why I am in Lornth. We would like those who rule Lornth to remain friendly to Westwind, as the regents have been.”

“The regents would certainly prefer that,” said Zeldyan lightly.

“So would most thinking lords,” added Maledyn.

Less than half a glass passed before a thin, redheaded woman appeared at the doorway to the porch.

“I do believe that supper is ready,” announced Anyna.

Maeldyn rose and stepped to one side. “After you, Lady Regent.” His eyes fixed on Saryn, and he said in a low voice, “If I might have a quick word with you, Commander Saryn?”

Saryn nodded and waited until the others were on their way into the mansion.

“You’re not the type to like hunting, either, are you, Commander?”

“Only when necessary for food or to prevent damage to crops or orchards.”

“As many people as you’ve killed, you don’t care much for that, either, do you?”

“No…but I will do what’s necessary.”

Maeldyn nodded. “As will most women, and that is why it would be foolish for the holders of Lornth to change the regency. Come…we should enjoy supper.” He gestured toward the door.

Saryn crossed the porch and followed the others into the dining chamber. There, Maeldyn sat at the head of the table, with Saryn to his left and Zeldyan to his right, while Chaeldyn sat beside Zeldyan, and Ilys beside Saryn. Anyna sat at the end opposite her consort, with Abaya between her mother and Ilys.

“Ah…stewed traitor birds with sand-stuffed cactus, seasoned with slime-moss.” So deadpan was Maeldyn’s announcement that, for an instant, Saryn almost believed it.

Abaya giggled. “Father!”

“Was I mistaken? Perhaps we’re having fermented turtle with snake-skin stuffing and…”

“Father…” Ilys’s single appellation carried fond exasperation.

As dinner continued, Saryn realized that the dour-looking lord was anything but dour and the first lord, besides Zeldyan’s father, that she could say she respected and possibly even liked.