L. Modesitt - Arms-Commander

Either Henstrenn or Keistyn would be a disaster, both for Lornth and Westwind. But would the surviving northern lords support any action against them? Did Zeldyan even care any longer? Even if the other lords did not want to move against Henstrenn and Keistyn, could Saryn afford to leave them in a position to seize power?

“Commander?” came a voice from the half-open doors to the verandah, one she recognized.

“Dealdron…I’m here, thinking.”

“There is a chamber for you on the lower level of the tower. Your guards have secured the villa and moved into the barracks.”

“Thank you.” Saryn did not move.

“You should eat, Commander. It has been a long day, and you used much magery.”

“I’ll be there shortly.”

“That would be good.” He said nothing more. He also did not move from his position on the verandah.

Saryn realized that he wouldn’t, not short of a direct order.

With a muted sigh, she crossed the study and stepped out onto the smooth stones, then closed the doors behind her. “We might as well go.”

“There is food waiting in your chamber.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. You have been inspecting the villa for a time.”

Saryn turned and began to walk toward the tower.

“They killed the young lord because they cannot kill you,” offered Dealdron, matching her steps.

Saryn noted that he did wear a blade, a short sword.

“Now the lord-holders will claim that you have no right to be in Lornth,” he added.

“I suppose there’s some truth in that, but the only right they truly recognize is might. Why should I recognize any other right in dealing with them?”

“So long as you were not the first.”

Saryn was curious as to why he might say that, although she certainly had her own belief. “What difference does that make?”

“If a lord seeks power over others by force when they have done him no evil, that is wrong. By using might, he has justified the right of others to use force against him.”

“That may be, but…what about his armsmen? I’ve killed hundreds or more. Most of them were only following orders.”

“They chose to be armsmen and to take up arms. Do you not know that every time you go into battle you might suffer the same?” Dealdron’s voice was low, almost gentle in the darkness as they neared the tower, which showed but two lights, a lamp in the window of the topmost chamber and a brass lamp outside the ground-floor door.

“I do my best to avoid being killed, but…yes…it is a possibility.”

Dealdron shrugged, as if to suggest that the answer was obvious. He stepped forward and opened the main door. The narrow hallway led to stone steps upward, but Dealdron gestured to the only door on the right, then pushed it open.

Saryn stepped inside. A single lamp was lit in the small square chamber with the narrow bed. A covered tray rested on the small writing desk. The floor had been swept and linens placed at the foot of the bed. Two pitchers of water and a washbasin stood on the washstand with a chamber pot in the corner. Her saddlebags were set beside the bed.

Saryn surveyed the chamber, noting the heavy bar beside the door and the inside shutters on the two windows, already closed and barred shut.

“Good night, Commander.” Dealdron stepped back and closed the door.

Saryn looked at the back of the door, knowing that Dealdron had made all the arrangements for her. She sensed his pleasure at surprising her.

She wasn’t certain she even wanted to consider that-not after the events of the day. And yet…how could she not? He was concerned about her, honestly. He found her attractive, and yet he was sensitive enough not to press her in any way. If only…

She shook her head, then eased the battle harness off.

Despite the heavy shutters, Saryn woke early on twoday and was washed up, dressed, and out of her chamber while the sky was still pale greenish blue-gray and awaiting the first glimmers of the sun creeping over the hills to the east. As she walked toward the barracks to the south of the tower, she did not see Zeldyan, but the regent’s shutters were closed, not surprisingly. The lightknives had faded away…mostly, if with an occasional needle flaring across her field of vision, reminding her that she was certainly not back to full strength in terms of handling the order-chaos flows.

Hryessa was also up early, out checking mounts and supplies. “Good morning, Commander. You feeling better this morning?”

Saryn raised her eyebrows. She’d never said how she’d felt.

“Every time you use magery, you look like you’ve been run over by wild horses,” Hryessa replied to the unspoken question. “That’s why Dealdron went to the trouble of getting your quarters set and some food. Not the only reason, of course.”

“Not the only reason?”

“Almost any woman would be pleased to have a man that handsome willing to do what ever he can to make her feel better.”

Saryn shook her head. “He just wants to prove his worth.”

“That he does. To you. He still takes blade practice with the better guards. Gets bruises, too.”

That Dealdron saw something more, or the possibility of something more with Saryn, handsome, hardworking, and intelligent as he had proved to be…Was that even possible for her? “How are the guards?”

“We lost Ilysa last night. Looks like all the others will pull through.”

“And the stores here?”

“Lean, but one of the head ostler’s boys sneaked back last night. He said that most of the crops hadn’t been brought in yet, and Lord Gethen warned the growers and crofters off almost an eightday ago. There’s some stored cheeses and dried meat and enough flour in dry barrels in the deep cellars. Might have some weevils here and there. We can deal with that.”

“What about making the holding more secure?”

“We’ve got fifth squad on patrol, with scouts out, and third and sixth are cleaning up the place and burying the dead. The horses, too. They’re already beginning to smell. The Lady Regent…” Hryessa inclined her head toward the villa. “She’ll need to decide. We can’t do anything there until she does.”

“I’ll talk to her once she leaves the tower.” Saryn wouldn’t press Zeldyan, not when the regent had just lost her father and her son. A few glasses wouldn’t matter, not at the moment.

“We’ve got the barracks kitchen open, ser.”

“Thank you.” Saryn smiled, then turned and headed toward the barracks. Hryessa’s statement was as much a suggestion that Saryn eat as the captain was likely to make.

First and second squads were lined up to eat as Saryn neared the end of the barracks holding the kitchen. The guards inclined their heads as she passed. She did hear some murmurs.

“…darkness around her…”

“…darkness or not…would be a lot fewer of us without her…”

“…too bad she’s not the regent…”

Saryn almost shook her head at the last. For a woman to be Overlord of Lornth-or even regent-she’d have to kill or defeat every lord-holder in Lornth…and keep doing it.

After she quickly ate fried bread and some unnamed meat strips that she suspected were probably from a fallen horse, Saryn walked back into the villa, this time trying to discover where there might be hidden entrances to a strong room or the like. She’d slowly gone through the wing with the bedchambers, sensing nothing behind the stone walls, except two places where windows had been walled up and one location where there had once been a door, when a guard called from the front foyer.

“Commander, ser!”

Saryn hurried back to the front foyer, her eyes passing quickly over the bodies laid out on the long table and looking toward the young guard, who stood just inside the archway. The woman had a long smear of dried blood on her left sleeve.