L. Modesitt - Arms-Commander

“I’m Saryn, Lord Maeldyn.”

“Maeldyn will do here at Quaryn. More than do.” The warmth of his fleeting smile was totally at odds with his voice and severe demeanor. “If you ladies will excuse me, it has been a long ride, and I’d prefer to be somewhat more presentable.”

“Of course, dear,” replied Anyna. “I’ll have the girls ready wine for when you join us. Supper will be ready at the usual glass.”

“Thank you.” Maeldyn nodded to the three women. “I will return shortly, but I doubt you will miss me.” A quick grin creased his thin face before he turned and headed inside.

Saryn had to admit to herself that he was anything but what she had expected, especially after her previous experiences with Lornian lords.

“I thought he would be back soon,” said Anyna.

Before long, Ilys and Abaya appeared with carafes of wine and a tray with small pastries. Not that long after the girls set the two trays in place, Chaeldyn appeared, a youth not quite fully mature with his father’s thin face, but with green eyes and just enough roundness in his cheeks that he looked merely serious rather than dour. He took a chair between his sisters, offering a “Good afternoon, your graces,” with a nod to the regent, Saryn, and his mother, in that order.

“It won’t be long, now,” said Anyna.

As she finished her words, Maledyn stepped out onto the porch. “Ah…lovely afternoon.”

Saryn wouldn’t have called it lovely, but bearable, on the shaded porch with a light breeze out of the north, but she nodded polite agreement.

Only after Anyna had filled all the wineglasses did she turn to her consort and ask, “How was the hunting, dear?”

“We took care of what was needed. We tracked and killed the two boars who were rooting into the gardens and fields near Hendyn, and we let the locals kill some of the excess deer north and east of town here. They’ve been encroaching on the orchards, and that’s not good for the harvests. They like the pearapples, especially…”

As Maeldyn summarized the hunting trip, Saryn noted that, while the three children were included, their chairs were set back just slightly, so that they did not break the line of sight between adults, and that they remained quiet, unless addressed directly. She also could sense that, even beyond his words, Maeldyn didn’t like hunting but regarded it as a necessary duty.

“…and I was happy to get your message, dear, and to learn that the regent and the arms-commander were visiting.” Maeldyn lifted his goblet and took a small swallow. “Good, especially after a long ride.” Then he looked to Saryn. “I imagine the hunting is something on the Roof of the World.”

“We have red deer and some mountain boars. The snow leopards can be a real problem in winter. Hunting when the snow’s over your head, even on skis, gets to be a chore quickly.”

Maeldyn glanced at Abaya. “You had a question?”

“Yes, Father.” The youngest child looked at Saryn. “How deep does the snow get? Is it like that all winter?”

“The snow starts to fall in late harvest, but except on the ice fields, it doesn’t stick until midfall. By the time winter starts, it’s thigh deep in many places. By midwinter, it’s higher than I am. We do use horses to pull scrapers and plows to keep some of the roads mostly open, but just the ones around Westwind.”

“How do you keep the water from freezing?” asked Anyna.

“We have fired-clay pipes from one spring, and they’re deeply buried. They go into a cistern in Tower Black.” Saryn shook her head. “The showers in the winter can be very cold.”

“Water piped into the tower,” commented Maeldyn. “Most ingenious.”

“Most necessary when it would freeze solid otherwise.”

“What other ingenious devices do you have?”

“We do what we can.” Saryn shrugged. She wasn’t about to get into stoves and overshot waterwheels.

“I don’t think the commander is going to share too many secrets,” observed Maeldyn. “I can’t say that I blame her.”

Saryn sensed no anger behind the lord’s words, merely quiet amusement, as if he had expected her response.

Maeldyn nodded to his son.

“Commander, ser, I heard that when Lord Sillek attacked Westwind, the angels hurled fires so great that all but a handful of men were burned to ashes. Ah…sometimes…stories…” Chaeldyn did not finish the question.

“What you heard was true,” Saryn said. “We still wish it had not been necessary. That is one reason why I am in Lornth. We would like those who rule Lornth to remain friendly to Westwind, as the regents have been.”

“The regents would certainly prefer that,” said Zeldyan lightly.

“So would most thinking lords,” added Maledyn.

Less than half a glass passed before a thin, redheaded woman appeared at the doorway to the porch.

“I do believe that supper is ready,” announced Anyna.

Maeldyn rose and stepped to one side. “After you, Lady Regent.” His eyes fixed on Saryn, and he said in a low voice, “If I might have a quick word with you, Commander Saryn?”

Saryn nodded and waited until the others were on their way into the mansion.

“You’re not the type to like hunting, either, are you, Commander?”

“Only when necessary for food or to prevent damage to crops or orchards.”

“As many people as you’ve killed, you don’t care much for that, either, do you?”

“No…but I will do what’s necessary.”

Maeldyn nodded. “As will most women, and that is why it would be foolish for the holders of Lornth to change the regency. Come…we should enjoy supper.” He gestured toward the door.

Saryn crossed the porch and followed the others into the dining chamber. There, Maeldyn sat at the head of the table, with Saryn to his left and Zeldyan to his right, while Chaeldyn sat beside Zeldyan, and Ilys beside Saryn. Anyna sat at the end opposite her consort, with Abaya between her mother and Ilys.

“Ah…stewed traitor birds with sand-stuffed cactus, seasoned with slime-moss.” So deadpan was Maeldyn’s announcement that, for an instant, Saryn almost believed it.

Abaya giggled. “Father!”

“Was I mistaken? Perhaps we’re having fermented turtle with snake-skin stuffing and…”

“Father…” Ilys’s single appellation carried fond exasperation.

As dinner continued, Saryn realized that the dour-looking lord was anything but dour and the first lord, besides Zeldyan’s father, that she could say she respected and possibly even liked.

The next oneday found Saryn, Zeldyan, and their armsmen and guards riding northeast through woods on a hilly and winding muddy clay road that was little more than a lane. Three days of solid riding through light and drizzling warm rains had left Saryn feeling thoroughly wet everywhere although the rain had stopped for the moment. The damp heat hadn’t seemed to bother Zeldyan nearly so much, unsurprisingly. When Saryn had ridden out of Quaryn on sixday, she had been genuinely sad to leave the one place she had visited thus far in Lornth where she had felt welcome…and even valued.

Saryn looked to the Lady Regent riding beside her. “Tell me again that Palteara isn’t that far out of the way.”

“It isn’t,” replied Zeldyan. “If we were riding directly to Lyntara and Lord Deolyn…now that would be a ride. But we only add two days this way, and Lord Spalkyn can meet you. Besides, it is a pleasant ride.”

Pleasant had different meanings for different people, Saryn reflected, brushing away another of the voracious biting flies that the forest harbored-and which seemed to prefer Saryn to all the other riders. She glanced up at the gray clouds above the trees. Were they thinning? She wasn’t certain how much of a blessing a clear sky would be, not with all the moisture in the air and on the ground and vegetation. “I’d just get steamed faster,” she murmured under her breath.