L. Modesitt - Arms-Commander

“You’ve met a number of the lords of the north,” said Gethen. “What do you think of them?”

“They impress me far more than those of the south I’ve met.” Saryn paused and took another small swallow of the cool wine. “Rather, I’d say that I liked and appreciated them better. I fear that Keistyn, Henstrenn, and Kelthyn might be more impressive in battle, except perhaps for Deolyn. Lord Barcauyn speaks more loudly than he fights, I fear, and might lack caution in some situations. Lord Maeldyn…I don’t know.”

“Maeldyn is more formidable than he appears,” said Gethen. “Between them, he and Deolyn could raise close to three companies of decently trained and mounted armsmen. They would not compare to your guards, but they would be a match for Henstrenn and Keistyn.”

“I would hope so since we did remove almost half a company of Henstrenn’s armsmen in the spring.”

“By now he will have replaced them, doubtless with the help of Suthyan golds.”

Saryn had few doubts about that possibility. “If I might ask, why did Rulyarth fall so easily back to the Suthyans?”

“After the losses we sustained against the Cyadorans, no lord would offer armsmen to help me hold the city and the lands surrounding the river. I was selfish enough not to wish to lose everything I had for lords who would offer nothing. Those who were willing to help me, such as Spalkyn and Maeldyn, had too few armsmen remaining to make a difference. Only Deolyn had more than a company, and I saw no point in both of us losing everything.”

“Especially since you had already lost a son.”

“I lost two. Relyn never returned after he was wounded on the Roof of the World.”

“He lost a hand,” Saryn said. “Nylan crafted him a false one, with which he could hold a dagger, but he vowed he would never return to Lornth. He was strong and healthy, and better than ever with a blade when he did leave Westwind for the east.”

“He was bitter, I suspect, about how Lady Ellindyja manipulated Sillek into offering lands for any who would destroy Westwind and concealing just how powerful you angels were. Like Fornal, he was proud and wanted to earn lands, not be given a pittance, which would have been all I could have bequeathed him. If he returned to Lornth, he would have had to fight lord after lord, and he would not have beggared me and Fornal to obtain arms and men. He was too honorable for that.” Gethen shrugged sadly. “I cannot say that events and you angels have treated those of The Groves easily.”

“We never attacked anyone,” Saryn pointed out. “Nor did we raid any lord.”

“No…you did not.” Gethen sipped from his goblet. “But it mattered not. The lord-holders of Lornth have always been most sensitive to any incursion upon what they see as their rights and privileges. They have also been unwilling to support any overlord who does not appear to have the ability to compel them to submit. Without the support of The Groves and Lord Deolyn, my daughter and grandson would have perished soon after Sillek. That was another reason why I could not hazard my forces in Rulyarth and why we struggle to maintain two full companies of armsmen here.”

Saryn nodded. The more she traveled Lornth and the more she heard, the more she felt like the majority of the holders were spoiled brats who could only be held in check by absolute force. “How did it come to this? Are all the lands in Candar so?”

Gethen’s smile was both sad and bitter. “I can only guess. Cyador was always feeling out those lands on its borders, especially in the south of Lornth, but the emperors tended to leave alone those whose reaction cost them golds and trained troops. Whether those lord-holders actually won against Cyadoran forces mattered less than the costs to Cyador. In time, only those lord-holders who were most foolhardy and willing to fight could manage to hold their lands…”

“And that is why the southern lords are so touchy about honor and lands and privileges?”

“I do not know. I can only surmise, and that surmise is based on legend and what I have seen in the lord-holders I have known.” He took another sip of the wine.

“Do you know why all the lords in Candar are so fearful of women having power in their own right?”

“Again, I can but guess. Power and lands have survived only in the hands of those who have been able to fight for them. Until you angels arrived, no woman existed who could hold her own against a man…”

Because no one would train them, no doubt, but Saryn did not voice that thought, continuing to listen, although she thought that there was more that Gethen was not saying.

“…it was felt wrong to grant power to a woman, except in the name of an underage heir, because she could not defend herself, save by the sufferance of the other lord-holders.”

“And now?” asked Saryn.

“Now, Commander, you have come and proved that you are a woman who can best other lord-holders, and that has many greatly concerned that you will raise up other women to do the same, and few lords would wish yet another challenge to their lands and their privileges.” Gethen smiled, sadly, once more. “You will either make my grandson’s heritage or destroy it, but Zeldyan has no one left to turn to, save me, and a few lord-holders of the north, and we cannot prevail alone against such as Henstrenn, not when he is being bribed by the Suthyans to cause difficulty.” Gethen glanced up. “Here come my daughter and grandson.” He stood.

So did Saryn.

As Nesslek entered the study, the youth studied Saryn.

She could sense his puzzlement, but not exactly the reasons behind it although she guessed that Zeldyan had told her son what Saryn and the guards had done, and the youth was trying to understand how it was possible, as if he could still not understand how a woman could have done what his mother had told him. Saryn had the unhappy feeling that little that she or Zeldyan had said or might say would make that much of an impression on Nesslek, much as she hoped she was wrong.

“We should go eat,” suggested Gethen, breaking the silence. “And you both can tell us of all that occurred on your travels, for little has happened here, most thankfully.”

Zeldyan, Saryn, Gethen, and Nesslek stood in Gethen’s study on sixday afternoon, just having left the dining chamber after a long and filling midday dinner.

“We will not be long,” Zeldyan said, turning to Nesslek, “but we need to discuss some matters with your grandsire. You can wait on the verandah if you like. Then you can take us on a tour of the vineyards. I have not had such a chance in years.”

Nesslek looked at the map spread out on the study desk. “Maps are not lands or holdings, and you already know all the roads to Lornth.”

“Commander Saryn does not, and there are other matters she needs to know.”

“Maps won’t tell her those.” Nesslek’s voice was not quite dismissive.

“No,” replied Saryn pleasantly. “Maps do not show the lord-holders or the people, or their ability or their will. But they do show the lay of the land, and what lies where, and often, if the map is good, the best ways to get from place to place. No one knows everything that a map shows. A good leader needs to know both people and maps, and many other skills as well.”

“And you need to go,” said Zeldyan firmly.

Nesslek looked as though he were about to object.

Saryn turned her eyes on him directly and let a sense of order flow from her to the impertinent youth. Go…and obey your mother.

Abruptly, Nesslek swallowed. Then he inclined his head. “Yes, Mother. I’ll be on the verandah.” He did not look at Saryn nor nod as he hurried off.