L. Modesitt - Arms-Commander

“Second company will be what remains of fourth squad and the newer trainees and the new recruits. Klarisa can be most forceful. We will even have enough for a third company before long. For now, they should certainly be able to hold Duevek.”

Saryn winced. Every time she heard the name Duevek, it grated on her. The holding name needed to change as well. “How are those of the holding staff taking matters?”

Hryessa raised her eyebrows, as if to ask why Saryn would even ask.

“Because everyone is so respectful around me. I’d like to know how they feel when I’m not around.”

“The women who know how to do things are most happy. Those who try to get others to do their work are not. Most of the men were either armsmen or have left. Those who remain seem pleased. We have had a score of women arrive here who have inquired about work at the holding, and even a few men.”

“I take it that you are working on the complainers?”

Hryessa laughed. “I do not have to. The other women are taking care of that. Within a few more days, everything will be close to what it should be.”

Saryn nodded. For a time, she was silent, wondering if she should ask the next question.

Hryessa looked at her inquiringly.

Saryn decided to go ahead. “I’ve just seen Dealdron.” Again. “What do you think of him?”

“He is a good man. He loves you.” Hryessa shrugged. “What else is there to say?”

“What else?” There are a million other things to say.

“If you were a poor and powerless woman, other things might matter. You are not poor or powerless. He will never harm you, and he adores you. He is also not dumb. He is good with coins, and has saved much for you and for us.”

In short…exactly where are you going to do better? The problem was that Hryessa was clearly right, at least from what Saryn had seen of the men in Lornth and elsewhere in Candar. And she couldn’t deny that she definitely felt something for him. More than just something.

“Oh…a messenger just delivered this, Commander,” Hryessa said with a smile, extending an envelope. “He wore green and cream.”

“Lord Shartyr…no doubt a missive of congratulations and support.”

“He is not to be trusted.”

“No…but he’s been most careful not to offend or provoke us.”

“Those men are the most dangerous.”

“Women can be exactly the same if they have power long enough,” replied Saryn dryly, thinking about Ryba. “Let’s see what he has to say.” She broke the seal and opened the envelope, taking out the single sheet and scanning the beautifully written lines.

My dear Commander,

I have just received word about the treacherous attack by some of the southern lord-holders on The Groves and learned of the tragic deaths of Lord Deolyn, Lord Gethen, and young Lord Nesslek. I have conveyed my sympathy in a separate letter to Lady Zeldyan, but I wanted to express my appreciation for your efforts and success in bringing the malefactors to justice effectively and quickly.

I would also like to assure you that I will support you and Lady Zeldyan and the northern lord-holders in what ever you recommend to the assembled lord-holders when we meet in Lornth, and I commend you for your forbearance and trust that you understand that you have my utmost respect.

The signature and seal were those of Shartyr, Lord-Holder of Masengyl.

Saryn nodded. As she had suspected, Lord Shartyr was extremely astute, and not to be trusted in the slightest. Especially not when your back is turned. At the same time, the letter did reinforce what Maeldyn had told her.

“He offers you congratulations and support,” suggested Hryessa.

“Of course,” replied Saryn with a laugh. “You said he was not to be trusted.”

The meeting in Lornth was going to be most interesting, especially when she told them what she expected of them. Yet…if she wanted to change things, she couldn’t leave matters as she had found them. And if she didn’t change things, what was the point of all the deaths?

Late on threeday afternoon, Saryn sat in the small study, looking at the missives stacked to one side. She picked up the top one, from Lord Whethryn of Tharnya, and scanned the lines.

…have discussed our sad situation with Lord Maeldyn and find, I must say, unhappily, that I agree with his proposal…would never have hoped for such…all other alternatives…impractical and worse…

The next, from the widow of Lord Rherhn, was even less palatable.

…understand that you, as Arms-Commander of Westwind, will play a role in determining my future and that of my sons and daughters…as one woman to another…can only plead that you will not destroy all that our family has held dear for generations…

Saryn wanted to snort at the widow’s plea. While the lord-holders had certainly been the prime players, and while the poor women of the towns and hamlets had little say, if even a few of the consorts of the lord-holders had been more forceful, the situation wouldn’t have been nearly so bad. Or would it? How would she ever know?

Finally, she stood and walked to the bookcase set in the middle of the inside wall, pressing on one of the corner bosses, one that was at the edge of the second shelf and ever so slightly more worn than the others. Then she swung the bookcase away from the wall, revealing a closet-or small room, really, since she’d not yet seen a true closet in any palace or villa anywhere in Lornth. Although she’d sensed the hidden space once she’d started to look for such, it had taken her a while to figure out the trick.

She studied the seven strongboxes on the shelves, then shook her head. She had been required to employ considerable effort with her order-chaos-abilities to open the heavy padlocks without destroying them, since she had yet to find the keys. The number of golds and silvers was considerable, more than enough to pay for the costs of operating the villa and paying the guard companies she would be supporting, possibly for several years. But having that much coin worried her, first because it suggested that the costs were far higher than she thought they were, and second because it revealed, again, that Lornth had nothing even approximating a banking system, another problem that she would need to address-assuming that she could pull off becoming and remaining overlord.

The other thing that she had noticed was the coins themselves. She’d observed earlier that the golds, silvers, and coppers were a mixed lot, some clearly Cyadoran, others Suthyan, or Gallosian, and even a few from Hamor and from someplace called Lydiar. None bore marks of having been coined in Lornth, yet another difficulty ahead. The other thing was that, what ever the source, the golds were all identical in weight and size, as were the silvers, but the size of the coppers varied a great deal, although the weights seemed to be the same.

She smiled briefly. In a way, that all made sense.

Her eyes drifted to the smallest of the strongboxes, the one that Dealdron had used to collect the loot and other items of value from battles and the like. It held close to a hundred golds in coins, and rings and jewels most likely worth several hundred golds, if not more.

He never took a copper himself.

She stepped back and closed the bookcase door, making sure that the catch and hidden lock were both engaged. Then she left the study, walked halfway down the main corridor, and took a side hall out to the north terrace, knowing that Dealdron was seated there.

As she neared, he put his good hand on the arm of his chair.

“Don’t get up. Your ribs still aren’t healed, and if you slip, you could hurt the arm.”