L. Modesitt - Arms-Commander

“You’re most persuasive, Lord Henstrenn.” Zeldyan smiled. “You are also most astute. Of all the holders you know, who might be among the best for the arms-commander and me to visit-besides yourself, since you have been so kind as to make yourself available here?”

“Ah…there are so many who have doubts about the efficacy of allying Lornth to a power about which they know so little…” Henstrenn paused, as if he were thinking, before continuing. “But I might suggest Lord Maeldyn, or perhaps Lord Spalkyn.”

Saryn could sense a calculation behind Henstrenn’s suggestion, one, she suspected, designed to push Zeldyan away from the very names he had suggested.

“Do any others come to mind?” Zeldyan’s inquiry was sweetly voiced.

“If one wanted to find out how those near Lord Deryll feel about Westwind, you might consider visiting Lord Barcauyn.”

“That is a most interesting possibility,” admitted Zeldyan. “We will give your thoughts careful consideration, Lord Henstrenn. And how is your most lovely and obedient consort?”

“Myleanda is well. She is visiting her cousin at the moment.”

“Oh…I had not heard that. She and Keistyn are so different…”

“Different as we may all be, we do share a great concern about assuring that Lornth remain strong…as I know you do, Lady Zeldyan.”

“I am so glad to hear you say that,” replied Zeldyan. “You, above all, are known for keeping your word and commitments.”

“You are most kind,” demurred Henstrenn.

Saryn managed to keep a pleasant smile on her face for another quarter glass or so while Zeldyan and Henstrenn traded apparent pleasantries.

Finally, Zeldyan rose from her seat, and, after a moment, as Henstrenn did, so did Saryn.

“I am so glad that you came to see me and to meet Commander Saryn,” Zeldyan said warmly. “I’m sure that you’ll be telling your acquaintances about her, and how much better it would be to have Westwind as an ally in these…difficult times.”

“They could, indeed, be difficult times, and we all must take care to choose wisely for Lornth, Lady Regent…as I know you will.” Henstrenn bowed to Zeldyan, then turned slightly to Saryn. “I’m pleased to meet you, Commander Saryn, here, rather than in a less…hospitable situation, and I trust you feel as I do.”

“Indeed I do,” replied Saryn with yet another smile she did not feel. “It’s well to learn about someone in person so that you don’t judge that person on what others say.”

“Do not let us keep you,” said Zeldyan. “Do convey my best to your consort.”

Zeldyan did not reseat herself until several moments after the study door closed behind the departing Henstrenn. When she sat back down, so did Saryn.

“I didn’t realize that Keistyn and Henstrenn were related by consortship,” Saryn said.

“Saryn,” said Zeldyan gently, “in some way or another all of the seventeen major holders in Lornth are related to each other. With whom else could they consort?”

Saryn concealed a wince. No wonder Lornth was in trouble.

“Now…we should discuss whom we should visit, and in what order. I’m inclined to follow Henstrenn’s suggestions.”

“So that you can point out to Kelthyn that you did…and because those names were on the list anyway?”

“At times, doing what someone says they want is the best way to disarm them.” Zeldyan smiled. “Besides, he did not wish me to visit Maeldyn. That was why he suggested him.”

Saryn smiled back at the regent. Zeldyan was no one’s fool.

Given the way inns operated, Saryn decided that she would visit the Square Platter after midmorning on twoday. Again, as she and the three guards rode from the palace to the square and down the side street, men and women alike glanced at them, then quickly looked away.

When she dismounted outside the Square Platter, she handed the gelding’s reins to Yulia. “Just wait here for now.” She studied the inn, a narrow brown-and-yellow brick building some fifteen yards across the front, with three windows on the right side and one on the left side of a large single door. Both the door and the shutters were painted a deep burgundy. A covered porch only two yards deep extended the width of the front, and a narrow brick-paved lane on the left side of the building presumably led to stables and a rear courtyard. She turned and stepped up onto the narrow porch.

The tall and broad man who stood beside the door looked at Saryn, then at the three Westwind guards, still mounted, before he said, “I don’t think you’re welcome here.”

Saryn smiled politely. “I’m welcome. I’m here to see Haelora. I have a letter from her aunt in Henspa introducing me to her.”

“I said-” The man stopped, realizing that the short sword was at his throat.

“What’s all this about?” Another man, older and paunchier, stepped out of the inn. His eyes flicked from Saryn to the armed guards and back to Saryn.

“I’m here to see Haelora. I have a letter of introduction from Jennyleu. Your man wants to keep me from her.” Saryn lowered the short sword only slightly.

Abruptly, the second man shook his head, almost ruefully. “You’re an angel, aren’t you?”

“Saryn. I’m the Arms-Commander of Westwind. I was asked to meet with the regents, but I’ve stopped at the Black Bull three times now…”

“Jennyleu couldn’t resist sending you to see her niece.” He shook his head, then looked at the tall man. “Rhytter…don’t ever cross one of the angels. I don’t want to tell your family how you ended up dead.”

Rhytter’s eyes narrowed. “You going to let them in here?”

“You want to die over it?”

“I think I’ll be finding another job.” Rhytter turned and walked off the porch.

Saryn just waited, looking at the prematurely balding blond man who was probably younger than she was.

“Don’t worry about it. He never has liked women all that much. I’m Vanadyl, Haelora’s consort and half owner of this establishment.”

“Saryn.” She displayed the envelope. “From Jennyleu.”

“Come on in.”

Saryn followed Vanadyl inside and into a narrow foyer.

“Haelora! Got a surprise for you!”

The woman who hurried through the archway from the public room to the right wore a burgundy skirt and blouse, and a cream-colored apron. She looked at Saryn, as if not quite certain what to say.

“The angel here’s got a letter from your aunt. Oh, she did what we couldn’t. Rhytter said he wouldn’t be working here anymore.”

“Fancy that.” Haelora was as blond as her husband, but unlike many of the women of Lornth, whose hair was long and either braided or bound back, hers was cut not that much longer than Saryn’s. Also, unlike her husband, she was slender and muscular.

“This is from your aunt.” Saryn extended the envelope.

Haelora opened the envelope. When she finished the letter, she shook her head ruefully. “Only Aunt Jennyleu’d have the nerve. Says she owes her life to you.”

“I helped a little when she was ill earlier this summer.”

“More than a little if she put it in ink,” suggested Vanadyl.

“She writes that I’m to help you.” Haelora paused. “Begging your pardon, Angel, but what sort of help could a poor innkeeper provide?”

“Information.” Saryn looked at the younger woman. “We’re here to help Lady Zeldyan. There seem to be a number of lords who feel like Rhytter did.”

“Glad he’s gone,” replied Haelora with a laugh. “Wouldn’t have been working here if he hadn’t a been Ma’s youngest cousin. Since he left on his own, I’m not obligated anymore. What sort of information?”

“What you hear. What people are worried about. How people feel about the regency.”