L. Modesitt - Arms-Commander

“Has that worked?”

“Not so far. He took to drying the lower-quality grapes and sending the kegs of raisins to Gallos by the northern route. He didn’t get as much, but it kept him from having to take what ever the Suthyans offered for the wine.”

Saryn could see the square ahead, and while there looked to be a raised brick-and-stone platform in the middle, no statue graced the square. “Do they use the square as a marketplace at times, or…?” She wasn’t quite sure how to finish the question.

“Some towns do. I don’t know about Ryntal.”

Saryn could see that more than a few people along the streets were beginning to look at the riders, especially when they saw Saryn and Zeldyan, and the Westwind guards directly behind them. She could catch some of the murmurs and words.

“…that’s the Lady Regent…”

“…who’s with her…woman wearing blades…don’t see that…”

“…whole bunch of armed women…”

As they rode into the center square, Saryn scanned the buildings, seeing a chandlery, a cooperage, even a fuller’s, and, on the west side, a gracious-looking inn with wide porches supported by yellow-brick pillars. The roof over the third story was made of pale yellow tiles, and the shutters and trim were also painted yellow. Not surprisingly, the signboard showed a yellow house, and the words beneath read Yellow Inn.

The main street continued northward beyond the outskirts of the town. Less than a kay farther, a paved road angled up a low rise to a mansion surrounded by a low wall, a three-story dwelling that faced generally west, with covered porches on all sides, except the colonnaded front, and on all three levels. When they reached the crest of the road, Saryn could see that the rise was the south end of a long ridge. Stables and outbuildings flanked a stretch of yellow-brick pavement extending along the ridge for half a kay. Beyond the last of the structures began a forest that not only covered the ridge but spilled down both sides and continued northward into the higher hills. A gray-haired woman stood behind the railing of the lowest porch on the north side, and a man dressed in brown livery stood on the pavement below the porch railing.

“Welcome to Quaryn, Lady Regent!” called the woman in a loud and cheerful voice. “If you and the commander would care to dismount there, Feiltyr will see to your mounts and conduct your officers and armsmen to the guest barracks.”

In less than a quarter glass, Saryn found herself standing in a second-level corner room with a cool-at least for Lornth-breeze blowing though the open windows. She could see the rear courtyard, with a fountain that fed watering troughs, where both Zeldyan’s armsmen and the Westwind guards had almost finished stalling their mounts and were being directed toward the barracks flanking the stables. She turned from the window and toward the curtained nook of her room, which contained an actual tub, half-filled with warm water, and a table piled with soft towels.

She did not resist that temptation, even washing her hair, although she was thankful that she had kept it barely longer than the shipboard military style she’d grown accustomed to years before. She took her time in washing and dressing in a clean uniform, but when she did descend to the main level of the mansion, she was met by a black-haired and black-eyed young woman.

“Commander, I’m Ilys. Mother asked me to escort you to the porch. It’s much more comfortable out there.”

Saryn followed the lithe Ilys along the wide central hallway, past a formal dining chamber on one side and a very formal sitting room on the other, then out through a set of double doors onto the porch. Lady Maeldyn rose from where she had been sitting.

“Arms-commander…”

“Lady Maeldyn, your graciousness-”

“Anyna…please call me Anyna. The thought of the Arms-Commander of Westwind calling me ‘Lady’ is absolutely preposterous.”

Saryn couldn’t help smiling, not so much at Anyna’s words but at the directness and truthfulness behind them. Anyna meant exactly what she said. “Then…Anyna, thank you, and I am Saryn. I cannot tell you how much I appreciated the thoughtfulness of the bath awaiting me.”

“Nonsense. After a long dusty ride in the summer, that’s a courtesy for anyone. We even have showers in the barracks…I hope that…we did put your guards in a different barracks…”

“Showers are all that we have in Westwind,” Saryn said. “They’ll be as grateful as I am.”

“Good. That’s settled.” Anyna gestured to the cushioned chair across a low table from her. “You don’t mind if Ilys joins us?”

“I’d be pleased.”

Anyna smiled, and so did her daughter, as Ilys took the more straight-backed chair to the right of Saryn.

“Zeldyan will be here shortly, but I would like to ask you a few questions if I might.”

“Certainly.”

“Is it true that you gave Barcauyn’s loutish son a thorough drubbing?”

“Ah…” Had Zeldyan already told Anyna that, or had word reached the lady some other way? “I tried to be gentle with him, but…in the end I had to break his jaw and dump him on the stone before he understood.”

Both mother and daughter laughed, almost unrestrainedly.

Saryn wasn’t quite certain how to respond.

“We’re a bit different here,” Anyna said after she stopped laughing. “We have mountain cats and giant boars here. I insisted that Maeldyn train the girls, as well as Chaeldyn, with arms. Ilys is almost as good as her brother, and Abaya will be at least that good if she stays with it.”

“Could you work with me?” asked Ilys.

“If you’re willing to use wooden wands.”

“Please don’t say you want to use real blades,” interjected Zeldyan from the door to the porch. “That was Joncaryl’s first mistake…of many.” She crossed the porch and settled into the cushioned chair on Anyna’s left.

“Do all guards train with the wooden blades?” asked Ilys.

“Until they’re very good, and sometimes beyond,” replied Saryn. “The Marshal and I only spar against each other with wands.”

“Is that because you are good?”

“Well…we would prefer not to kill or injure each other.”

“Wooden wands,” said Anyna. “Definitely.” She turned slightly to face Zeldyan. “When I received your message, Lady Zeldyan, I sent a rider to summon Maeldyn, but he could not possibly return before tomorrow afternoon. That is perfectly acceptable to me because I never have had the opportunity to meet you, and never would I have a chance to meet someone like the arms-commander. Maeldyn would worry that you would corrupt me, Commander, but I’m too old for that kind of corruption…” A warm but light laugh followed those words. “When the Westwind…issue came up years ago, I told Maeldyn that any bunch of women who were desperate enough to fight were to be avoided at all costs. He did not believe me, totally, but he was wise enough to follow my advice. He also refused to treat with Trader Baorl when that snake slithered through here late in spring.”

“I understand that Lord Henstrenn received the trader,” Saryn said.

“That does not surprise me. Henstrenn thinks he should hold Lornth…begging your pardon, Lady Zeldyan, and he would treat with the white demons if he thought it would help him become overlord. The Suthyans are almost that bad.”

“Kelthyn seems little better, from what little I’ve seen,” suggested Saryn.

“With the notable exception of your consort,” began Zeldyan dryly, “I would suspect that ambition of at least half the holders in Lornth.”

“Ambition often grows most unrestrainedly in those with the least ability to manage it,” replied Anyna.