L. Modesitt - Arms-Commander

Saryn had barely dismounted when she saw an armsman hurrying across the courtyard from the rear of the palace. As he neared, she could make out the features of the same junior officer who had greeted them earlier. Unfortunately, she could not remember his name.

“Commander!” called the undercaptain.

Saryn waited until he stopped a yard from her. She’d once thought that he resembled Dealdron; but it was clear, now that she looked, that he did not. She could sense the mixture of consternation and even fear stirred up within him. “Yes, Undercaptain?”

“The Lady Zeldyan conveys her apologies for your not being recognized. She had not anticipated that you would respond to her invitation so speedily.”

With a smile, Saryn replied, “Her invitation did say that she wished to meet at our earliest convenience. We have obliged her.”

“Yes, ser. As soon as you have your guards settled, she would very much appreciate a brief meeting with you personally.”

“I would be happy to do so. It should not be that long.”

Less than a quarter glass later, Saryn and the undercaptain walked across the rough stone pavement of the rear courtyard to the door on the south wing of the palace and up the single flight of steps. Saryn carried her saddlebags and a second bag with other uniforms and items she had thought she might find of use.

“The same chamber as before?” she asked.

“Yes, ser.”

Saryn turned to the right, noting that the air in the corridor was warm and stale.

A young chambermaid-the same one as before, Saryn thought-hurried from the end door, then stepped to the side, her eyes wide before she dropped them, and said, “Your chamber is ready, Commander.”

“Thank you.” Saryn smiled.

The girl glanced up, fleetingly, her eyes taking in Saryn’s battle harness, before they dropped again.

Saryn did not doff the harness and blades after she set her gear on the writing table, but she did take a moment to locate a clothesbrush and used it to remove the dust from her boots and uniform before she turned. “I’m ready.”

“Yes, ser.”

As she walked down the corridor beside the undercaptain, she could sense the chambermaid following, if at a discreet distance. She also managed to drag up the name of the undercaptain from her memory by the time they passed the top of a large formal staircase in the middle of the palace and reached the north staircase, where they climbed another flight of stairs, then walked to the same unmarked doorway where Saryn had been before and a single armsman stood.

Saryn nodded. “Thank you, Undercaptain Maerkyn. I trust I will see you later.”

“Yes, ser.” Maerkyn stepped back.

Saryn could sense the chambermaid peering out from the stairwell and watching the three figures outside the private chambers of Lady Zeldyan.

The guard outside the study looked at Saryn and her weapons.

Saryn looked through him, her eyes cold, projecting a flow of total command.

The man stepped aside.

Saryn nodded and opened the door.

“…never seen that…” came the faintest murmur before Saryn closed the door behind her and smiled. There would be more than a few things happening that Lornth had not seen before if she had anything to do with it.

Lady Zeldyan had already stepped away from the small square table set before the middle window of the sitting room. On the table were two bottles and a pair of goblets. Zeldyan wore a purple tunic and trousers trimmed in black, and her silver-and-blond hair was drawn back away from her face. The darkness under Zeldyan’s eyes was more pronounced than it had been earlier.

“If you would sit down…” The regent waited to seat herself until Saryn began to take the other seat. “I can only offer white or amber wine…Commander…”

“Saryn, if you would.”

“Only if you call me Zeldyan…which you have not done…” Zeldyan’s smile was impish, and the amusement behind it startled Saryn so that she did not reply immediately.

“White or amber?” asked the regent.

“Whichever is lighter, I think.”

“The white, then.” Zeldyan filled both goblets, then lifted hers. “To your courtesy in heeding my request.”

Saryn returned the gesture. “And to your grace.” She took a sip of the clear white vintage, pleased at its light, slightly fruity flavor…and its coolness.

“You came armed.” Zeldyan’s smile slipped away.

“I came prepared, Lady.”

“I did not expect an even-larger party than when you came earlier in the year. I do not know whether to be complimented or worried.”

“Westwind wishes you to remain regent. The Marshal allowed me half a company…and some spare mounts and equipment. We also returned two of the wagons and drays. The other cart…barely survived the trip to Westwind, and the dray would not have survived the return.”

“All will be surprised that you returned two,” replied Zeldyan sardonically.

“The palace seems…rather empty, and I did not see Nesslek…” offered Saryn.

“In the summer, few wish to remain in Lornth who do not have to. Nesslek is at The Groves with his grandsire.”

“Is that for the summer…or because matters are less than desirable here in Lornth?”

“He is spending the summer with his grandsire, as he has often done, and as I did as a child.”

“Of course.” Saryn nodded, understanding fully that Nesslek was where Zeldyan thought he would be the safest. “The holdings near there are most friendly to your sire?”

“All those near The Groves are most faithful to my sire…and to the rightful heir.” Zeldyan sipped her wine.

“The regents did not request my presence, did they? You did. The others don’t even know we’re here. Or they didn’t until we arrived.”

“They will not know for a time. Those loyal to Kelthyn have already left Lornth for the season. Little occurs here in high summer.”

“What would you have of me, Lady?” Saryn took another sip of the cool wine.

“What ever you can do to assure that my son lives to his maturity…and to succeed his father.”

“That suggests that there are those who wish otherwise…besides Kelthyn,” Saryn observed quietly.

“There are those.”

“I do not think that you would wish more killing and violence.”

“No ruler or regent wishes that,” replied Zeldyan.

“You will pardon me, Lady, but I know little of the holders of Lornth. Besides those of the regents, I know only of the Lord of Duevek, who was both rash and impolite, and who is doubtless under the influence of the Suthyans, and Lord Keistyn, who met us briefly on the road through his lands.”

“What did you think of young Keistyn?” Zeldyan’s voice was even, but in the thoughts behind the perfectly modulated tone, Saryn could sense the lady’s dislike.

“He was most polite, and his voice and eyes were warm and cheerful. No holder in Lornth can be that warm to a party of Westwind guards without dissembling.”

“His father perished when the Cyadorans attacked.” Zeldyan laughed. “Lord Chentyr of Hasel had taken care to position himself most carefully, well out on the flank, claiming he was there to support my brother, Fornal. When Fornal charged, Chentyr did not, but a stray chaos-bolt from the Cyadoran mages was deflected from the mage Nylan and struck Chentyr. Not even cinders remained. Yet Chentyr was a paragon of virtue compared to his son.”

“That would suggest the son has little love for either you or Westwind.”

“On the few occasions he has been here in the palace, he has always been volubly pleasant and most courteous.”

“And the same is true of Lord Duevek?”

“Actually, he is Lord Henstrenn of Duevek, or Henstrenn, Lord of Duevek, just as Keistyn is Lord Keistyn of Hasel, or Keistyn, Lord of Hasel, although the common folk often just call whoever holds the lands Lord Duevek or Lord Hasel or, in my father’s case, Lord Groves.”