Divided Allegiance

Marshal-General Arianya

High Lord’s Hall

Fin Panir

To all Marshals of Gird,

Greetings:

In the matter of Paksenarrion Dorthansdotter, recently a member of Gird’s Company here, I request the courtesy and charity of your grange. Paksenarrion was a member of Gird’s quest to the stronghold of Luap; without her defense the quest would have failed more than once. Through the malice of Achrya, she has been left unfit for battle, and has chosen to work her own way in the world rather than accept grange gift, which she was offered freely. Marshals, this is not weakness; she was assailed with such power as even you or I might fall before. Give her any aid she needs; report any contact to me in Fin Panir for reimbursement; defend her as you can against malice and evil, for she can no longer defend herself. On my honor as commander of the Fellowship of Gird, she has no taint of evil herself, and Gird’s grace is on her.

She is tall, yellow-haired and gray-eyed, and has many fighter’s scars, including some that look recent, still inflamed. She carries a safe-conduct from me, but I fear she may be too shy to present it. Look for her. She is under our protection.

Marshal Keris

Shaleford Grange

To Marshal-General Arianya,

Greetings:

As you requested, I am writing to report that Paksenarrion Dorthansdotter has been here. I was away when she came, but yeoman-marshal Edsen took her in overnight. She seemed in good health; she seems to me a pleasant young woman, very willing to please, though not steady of nerve. She spoke to our yeomen about the quest to Kolobia, which they had not heard. I sent her with a message to old Leward at Highgate Grange; I know there is much traffic along the way there, even in winter, and thought she might find work. No one is hiring here.

I must say that with the little you wrote, it’s hard to explain her to the yeomen here. Even Edsen wondered about her. Perhaps in more traveled areas, they’ll be more understanding. If I understood you correctly, she has had her mind damaged by a demon—right?

It looks like another hard winter; I’m having trouble getting all the grange-gift without cutting the farmers too short. I’m sending the rolls; note that Sim Simisson died, and his widow has remarried into Hangman’s barton. Their farm was split between the three boys, but Jori and Ansuli have moved away, and young Sim is farming it all. Gird’s grace to you.

Marshal Leward

Highgate Grange

To Marshal-General Arianya

Greetings, Arñe!

Did you hear that old Adgan finally died? Kori Jenitson told me a few weeks ago, when he rode by this way. I told him to write you, or send word from Vérella.

Keris sent that Paksenarrion Dorthansdotter to me. What is the Fellowship coming to, after all? I know, I know. You had your reasons. But such things should happen to those of us with years enough to know better. She’s nought but a young sprout, I don’t care how many years she fought with Phelan. By the way, someone told me he’d been to Fin Panir. Is that true? Is he coming back to the Fellowship?

Anyway, I found the girl a place with a trader I know. She looks strong enough, though much disfigured with those scars. Loading wagons should put a little muscle on her—then maybe she won’t find swords so frightening. Keris, the trader, promised to keep her on all the way to the south if she earns her keep. Can’t see any reason why she won’t. She’s certainly polite and better-educated than most. If she weren’t scarred as she is, I’d be tempted to find a husband for her.

Remember me at Midwinter Feast. I will roast a pig in the honor of Luap’s Stronghold.

Sulinarrion

Marshal of Seameadow Grange

To Marshal-General Arianya,

Greetings:

Arñe, I have sad news about your stray. Keris, a small trader, came storming in to complain of her. Leward of Highgate had placed her with him as a laborer, and according to Keris, she ran away, or fainted or something when bandits attacked his wagons. I know Keris of old; we see him in grange-court every few years when he either complains of short weight or gives it. He’s a hasty, hot-tempered man who will cling to a mistaken idea until the nomads build walls. Anyway, he says he fired her on the spot—somewhere in the woods west of Lowfallow, if I can tell by his tirade—and left her there. According to him, she was unwounded, and the bandits were all dead, so perhaps she has made it somewhere else. I asked to talk to his guards, and the senior, a Falkian named Jori, from Marrakai’s domain, told me that she had simply frozen, neither attacking the bandits nor defending herself. He said some of the guards made up a small sum for her, and he gave it to her. He felt bad about it, he said, but he couldn’t leave the wagons. I think it’s the best we could hope for.

I’ve told my yeoman-marshals and my yeomen to keep looking for her, but no one has turned up yet (though they did find a tall blonde thief we’ve seen before; she’s enjoying our hospitality in a different way, awaiting the Duke’s Court.) I told Keris what I thought of him, but it didn’t do much good. He’s so used to covering fear with bluster that he doesn’t want to admit anyone can’t.

I’m sorry I have no better news. On the bright side, we have had an unusually good year in all the eastern bartons, and the grange-lands themselves, and can help those west of us who are short. I’ve heard that some granges can’t make their Hall share; you can see from our rolls that we can help out. I hope to come in sometime next spring—do you still have that dappled gray? I’ll make an offer you can’t refuse.

Sulinarrion

Marshal of Seameadow Grange

To Leward of Highgate Grange

Greetings:

Leward, why on earth did you place Paksenarrion with Keris? You must know what sort of rough clod he is! He came ramping in here complaining of her cowardice, and the dishonesty of Girdsmen, until I nearly hit him on the head to shut him up. Didn’t you warn him that she couldn’t fight? He fired her after a bandit group attacked the wagons and she didn’t defend them. Of course she didn’t defend them. I know plenty of men—some of them, unfortunately, yeomen—who would run like rabbits in an unexpected attack. When I finally got the whole story out of one of his guards, it turns out Keris himself simply fell off his horse and bellowed the whole time. Now she’s disappeared, and Gird alone knows what’s happened to her. Next time you need something handled with delicacy, don’t go to Keris.

Sim Arisson,

Marshal of Lowfallow Grange

To the Marshal-General of Gird

Greetings:

In accordance with your request for information about the whereabouts and welfare of Paksenarrion Dorthansdotter, I am writing you a full report of recent events in this area.

Several weeks ago, I was touring the bartons and was not in Lowfallow for some days. When I returned, the innkeeper of the largest inn called me to attend one of his grooms, who had been badly burned in a barn fire. The short of it is that the innkeeper blamed one of the stablehands for the fire, and claimed she had been in league with two thieves, who had robbed the inn on the night of the fire. I think this person was Paksenarrion, from the description and name given by the innkeeper. Apparently she sought work there a few weeks before the fire, giving her name but no reference to the grange. She worked well, according to Jessim (the innkeeper), and slept in a shed near the kitchen. A few days before the fire he had said she and another stablehand might sleep in the barn, trade being slow. When the fire broke out, the groom discovered her in the barn, with her clothes as much off as on. He could see a candlestick in the midst of the fire. Jessim assumed she’d been whoring, and either set the fire as a distraction for the thieves or made it carelessly. Jessim drove her out that night, being angry, as he said. No one saw her leave town; it was bitter cold and windy, and most were fighting the fire. The next day he reported her description (but not her name, which he had forgotten until I questioned him) to the Duke’s militia, as an accomplice of the thieves.

After I spoke to him, he withdrew the charge, and I have cleared her name with the militia, though I have asked them to look for her, and let me know if they find her. I asked the grange here, and none of the yeomen knew her, or remembered having seen her. I swear to you, Marshal-General, that she did not come to my grange for aid; I would have given it gladly. We found no sign of her in Lowfallow or in the farmland around. You will understand that it took some time to look, for I was afraid she might have been hurt in the fire and unable to travel. I had my yeomen look in every ditch and bramble. We were heartened to find no body, but we did not find her.

I delayed writing you because I hoped to have more certain news. Jessim promised to ask any travelers that came in, and I have spread the word to the distant bartons of my grange. Two days ago, one of my yeomen from Fox Barton reported a stranger living with an old widow in an outlying cottage. By the time we rode there, she was gone, but I am sure it was Paksenarrion.

The old woman is not a Girdsman, but has a name for honesty and hard work. She is a widow (her husband died of fever; he was a woodsman) and supports herself and a crippled daughter with weaving and spinning. At first she did not want to talk about it, but after we convinced her we meant Paksenarrion no harm, she told her tale. It seems that Paksenarrion appeared one morning (she could not be sure of the date, but that it was a clear day after a cloudy one) in her shed. She described her as nearly frozen, half-naked, and hurt. Apparently one leg was injured, for the woman told us she limped for most of the time she stayed there. Anyway, the old woman took her in, mended her clothes, and fed her, though that was hard—which I could well believe, looking around. They found Paksenarrion to be, in their words “gentle—she never said a rough word—” and she seems to have helped them by fetching water, finding wood and breaking it up, and so on. They said she offered to pay for her keep, but the old woman could not use her Finthan coins without walking into Lowfallow to change them—which was too far, she said, in winter. I suppose that means she still has the money you gave her in Fin Panir.

They had hoped she would stay, as she seemed strong to them, but she was unable to spin or weave, though apparently she tried to learn. Without extra help, they could not earn enough to keep three. Paksenarrion decided to leave, although they protested, and she insisted they keep a few Finthan coins. The old woman asked me if I could change one for her in Lowfallow. I told her to keep it; that the grange would aid those who helped Girdsmen. I find that Fox Barton was already providing meat from time to time, but have put these women on the grange rolls. They need someone young and strong to board with them, and learn care of the daughter, who will never walk; we are working on that. In the meantime, I have sent supplies, and an order from the grange for two rugs a year. With your permission, I will name them on the Year Roll. They are not Girdish, but we owe them that.

Anyway, that’s all I could find of Paksenarrion. Before I could extend the search, we had a thaw which left every road a quagmire. I have written neighboring granges, but it seems clear that she is avoiding granges. From the descriptions given by the women and by the innkeeper, I doubt that she will be recognized as anything but a vagrant. However, we will keep watch, and report anything we find.

I know you will be disappointed in this report. I think it hopeful that she is clearly still able to serve others weaker than herself. Perhaps some day Gird and the High Lord can restore her trust in the Fellowship and in herself.

Seklis, High Marshal

Marshal-General Arianya Greetings:

While traveling from Valdaire to Vérella, I met a party on the road who spoke of an ex-Girdish warrior named Paksenarrion. When I reached Vérella, your waiting letter mentioned such a one. My news is meager indeed. At the time I was with the traders, I did not know of your interest, and did not question them as I might have. They said something about meeting an unusual sight—a Girdsman afraid of her own shadow, of barking dogs and horses. One of them said she’d been cursed that way, and gave it as proof that she was lapsed from the Fellowship. I do not recall where they said they had seen her, or where she was going—if they even said—but I report this because of your interest.

More important, I believe, is the continued conflict in Aarenis between the Guild League cities and the old nobility; trade is completely disrupted, and famine this year has been widespread. . . .