L. Modesitt - Arms-Commander

“And if they cannot?” pressed Maeldyn.

“I think we would have to see how they cannot agree.” Saryn managed to inject a tone of wryness into her voice.

“In the end, it will take great strength to hold Lornth together.”

Saryn didn’t want to deal with that…not yet, even though Zeldyan had already brought up the issue even more directly. “The first problem is to defeat Henstrenn and remove the Suthyan meddling and influence.”

“That is true, Commander.” Maeldyn smiled. “You are most capable. And you have Lornth’s interests more at heart than many lord-holders. I would like to discuss this matter with you after we deal with Lord Henstrenn. You are correct, I believe, that all the surviving lord-holders should be gathered, but we should discuss a strategy with Spalkyn and Lady Zeldyan before we do.”

“At that point, we should. I agree.”

“If you will excuse me, Commander…”

“I won’t keep you.”

With a pleasant smile, and one that matched a guarded warmth behind the expression, Maeldyn nodded and walked swiftly in the direction of the barracks.

Saryn walked more slowly toward the stables, to check on mounts and to talk to Dealdron about the wagons and what supplies they could and should carry. She couldn’t help but think that Maeldyn and Zeldyan were both acting as though their victory were a foregone conclusion. Yet, with chaos-mages supporting Henstrenn, that was anything but a certainty.

Without shields against chaos-fire-bolts, prevailing against Henstrenn and his allies was unlikely and, even if possible, any victory would likely result in huge casualties that would render success only marginally better than defeat because without a strong force to deal with the other lord-holders, indecision and political chaos would result. At the same time, her recent efforts with the chaos-order-knives had made it clear that she did not have either the strength or the ability to hold or maintain large shields for long at all.

Could she do the same thing with her shields as she had with the chaos-order-knives? Make them small and more targeted while sliding the fire-bolts away? Do I have any choice?

She smiled wryly. Why does trying to do the right thing always involve so much more than you ever think it will? She didn’t have an answer for that question, either.

She did know that she needed to practice sliding flow shields that could be used against chaos-fire-bolts. She had a day or two to work on that, and she’d probably need every moment.

The east road was the longer route to Lornth, but shorter to Duevek, given the westward course of the River Yarth south of Carpa. It was also much drier and dustier, and reddish road dust rose and sifted through everything by mid afternoon on fiveday. Saryn had been practicing the skill of making small sliding order-chaos-shields on and off for two days. She thought she had a better technique that took less effort, but how long she could keep that up was another question once they got into battle.

“If it’s this dusty farther south,” Saryn said to Spalkyn, riding to her right, “Henstrenn will see us from kays away.”

“Duevek sits on a bend in the river, with hills to the north. It’s not as dry there, but the hills would shield us from view until the last five kays or so. By then, it shouldn’t matter. One way or another, he’ll know. He still has those mages, and some mages can tell from a distance when people are coming. He must suspect we’ll attack, anyway, and he will have posted scouts on the roads.”

Did Saryn’s ability to sense people from a distance make her a mage? Hryessa had as much as said that, but Saryn certainly couldn’t throw fire-bolts.

From what she recalled, Duevek sat on a hill overlooking the main southern road from the Westhorns into Lornth, but she’d only seen the keep from the road below and from a distance. “What is the holding like?”

“I only saw it once, as a very young man,” returned Spalkyn. “It’s on top of a low hill or rise, and it overlooks the town and the River Yarth. The Yarth is narrower there, but still not an easy crossing. The villa is all one story and extensive, but it is set within rather large and solid walls. So are all the outbuildings. The walls must be a good eight cubits high and two or three thick.”

Cannon would definitely help here, but with white wizards on the other side, they’d likely use chaos to blow the powder. She frowned. Is that why they never pursued gunpowder or the like? Or was the reason simply lost in all the centuries since the old Rats colonized Cyador? “What about the gates?”

“The usual for a fortified keep. Heavy planks, backed with timber, and ironbound. The pivots and hinges are all protected by the walls.”

“So they swing inward?”

“Unless you have a moat and a drawbridge, what choice is there?” Spalkyn’s question was clearly rhetorical.

Saryn wasn’t about to get into portcullises and sliding slot gates and the like. She just nodded, idly wondering if she could use her order-chaos in some way against the gates. You can’t use it for everything. You’re not strong enough or talented enough for that. Again, it would be pick and choose…and hope that her choices were the right ones. “What if he just retreats inside the walls?”

“It’s not as defensible as Masengyl, but I doubt Henstrenn will want a siege. He wants a victory, and sitting behind walls doesn’t make him a leader. That would just erode his support.”

Given the brashness seemingly revered by the southern lord-holders, Saryn could see that.

“Also, he can’t get his harvest in. So…if he stays inside the walls, we just start to burn fields until he comes out. If he doesn’t come out, he loses it all, and that will weaken him both in the wallet and in terms of support with both his own people and the other lords.”

Saryn hadn’t thought of going that far, but she could see the possibilities. Still…Henstrenn was the type to sacrifice anything and anyone to his ambitions.

“I’m glad you had those wagons. We can carry more rations,” said Spalkyn. “The spare mounts you captured from Jaffrayt and Kelthyn also help.”

With Spalkyn’s words about the wagons, Saryn couldn’t help but think about Hryessa’s comments about Dealdron. While she had meant to talk to him on threeday, what with one thing and another, somehow she hadn’t gotten around to it. Was that because you really didn’t want to?

Finally, while Maeldyn and Spalkyn were checking with their armsmen, Saryn rode back to the rear of the column, where, amid the road dust, Dealdron was driving the first of the five supply wagons. There she eased the gelding alongside the wagon.

“How are the drafts holding up?”

“So far, so good, Commander.”

“And the wagons?”

“There’s one axle on the third wagon that’s a trace unsteady, but it’s holding so far. We have spares and extra wheels.”

“You’ve thought that out.”

“Wouldn’t be much help if I hadn’t,” he replied with a grin, looking to the team.

“You’ve been a great help wherever you’ve been,” Saryn said with a light laugh. “Even when you could barely walk with that heavy support and splint.”

“You made it clear I should be.” Dealdron’s tone was on the edge of banter, and there was no sense of resentment.

“You don’t sound too upset.”

The younger man shrugged. “You made me think about things differently.”

As he replied, Saryn realized something else. Dealdron’s speech was better than it had been when he had first come to Westwind. “You’ve gone out of your way to arrange matters for me,” she said carefully, although she did not sense any of the other teamsters in the wagon, even out of sight. “I appreciate it. I truly do.”