L. Modesitt - Arms-Commander

“How did the guards have the coins to frequent the taverns?”

“They did not have too many, but”-Hryessa smiled-“you must remember that there were many dead Gallosians not buried by the mountain who had no further need of rings and coins, and not all the coins found their way to the Marshal’s strongboxes.”

That certainly figured, Saryn realized. She’d been in so much pain after the avalanche that she hadn’t been as attentive as she should have been. “It’s all been as easy as that?” She tried to keep the ironic tone out of her voice.

“No, ser. We’ve had problems. I have two women locked in the armsmen’s brig, and every day the local patrol chief comes to make sure that they are still there. One, I think, should be whipped, and set free somewhere well away from Lornth. She stole silvers from the Square Platter, but we replaced them. The other”-the captain shook her head-“she took a blade and killed a man and a woman. I talked with the regent’s undercaptain. He said that any punishment that is merited by the regent’s armsmen is handed down by the overcaptain and approved by the regent. I said that you and the regent would decide the punishment for the two.”

Saryn withheld a sigh. She expected some problems, but not a recruit murdering a former lover or what ever the man had been. “Tell me more about the killing.”

“The woman’s name is Fynna. I believe she was really a harlot, but no one would say. She took a blade to a bouncer at the Green Dog, fellow named Ritta or something like that-”

“Rhytter?”

“I think that’s it. Anyway, the two with her tried to grab her, but she vaulted over a railing and put the blade into another harlot. That was when the two guards got her. They weren’t gentle. They carried her back here.”

“We can’t have that,” Saryn said. “Rhytter might have deserved it, but with her killing two, like that, there’s no question on what has to happen.”

“No, ser.”

“I’ll tell the Lady Regent, but I think she’ll agree with a death sentence. Don’t say a word until I get her agreement, though.”

“No, ser.”

Saryn could sense the relief in the guard captain, as if Hryessa knew that had to be the sentence, but she wanted Saryn’s agreement. “I’ll need to stable the gelding first, though.”

Hryessa nodded and stepped back, an enigmatic smile on her face.

Saryn turned to lead the gelding into the stable when a tall blond figure strode from the stable. For a moment, she was shocked. Then she shook her head and asked Dealdron, “What are you doing here?” Behind her, she could sense Hryessa slipping away.

“I came to make certain that someone was here to take proper care of your mounts,” replied Dealdron. “I am not as good a fighter as your guards. I can fight well enough against those who are not guards that no one will need to protect me, and that will free a guard for what else must be done.”

“The Marshal said you were useful,” Saryn said. “I do hope so.”

“I am not so useful as Daryn. He came to make sure that there was someone to repair and reforge the blades. None of the lowland smiths can do that.”

“I suppose he would know that.” She paused, then asked, “What about you? What can you do that the lowland ostlers and plasterers cannot?”

“Defend myself, if badly, and know that it is best not to argue with an angel.”

Saryn managed not to laugh, although she suspected Dealdron had kept much of what he’d thought to himself. “How did you persuade the Marshal to let you go?”

“I did not. I just slipped into the wagon and waited. Daryn helped.” Dealdron shrugged. “I think she knew that was what I would do.”

“Then why…?”

“She said that you needed help and that Westwind needed you to be successful. I can help, if in a small way, and I would not be able to if it had not been for you.”

“And you don’t totally trust the Marshal so far as men are concerned?”

“The Marshal will keep her word,” replied Dealdron. “How she will keep it I cannot say. I know how you will keep yours. That is one reason why I am here.”

Saryn glanced toward the palace. “I’ll talk to you later about how to keep making yourself useful, not that you seem to need any advice from me. I need to talk to the regent.”

“I have always listened to you.” Dealdron smiled. “Have I not?”

Saryn shook her head, again, even as she admitted, “So far.”

He extended his hand for the gelding’s reins. “I will unsaddle and groom him, and your gear will be safe.”

“Thank you.”

Even after he led the gelding into the stable, and she turned and crossed the courtyard, now clean of the sparse grass that had infested it, she felt as though Dealdron’s eyes were on her back. Although she appreciated his devotion, she couldn’t help but worry that he was already making her into something she wasn’t.

Saryn made her way to the upper-level private study, where Lyentha ushered her inside, past the guardsman, who resolutely looked away from Saryn and her weapons.

Zeldyan sat at the table, where several missives were neatly stacked. “You have that look upon your face, Commander.”

“What look?” Saryn offered what she hoped was a puzzled smile.

“The pleasant one that hides news you think I will not find to my liking.” Zeldyan sighed. “Little news is to my liking these days. What is yours?”

“Mine does not bear on the land of Lornth, but upon a murder and a theft committed by two of the young women who asked to become Westwind guards…” Saryn went on to explain, ending with, “…and it is my judgment that the thief should be whipped publicly, then sent as a servant or the like to another town. The one who killed Rhytter must be publicly executed, and soon, so that the people of Lornth know that Westwind will not tolerate offenses.”

“If you would send the thief to Rohrn, that might be best. They need people there, and she will find work. The other…Will you need an executioner? An axeman?”

“No. I’ll take care of it personally.”

“You would execute one of your own?” asked Zeldyan.

“She’s my responsibility. It would be wrong and cowardly to turn it over to anyone else.”

“I appreciate the courtesy of your coming to me, but you didn’t have to, you know?”

“I think I did. I will announce that the sentence is in accord with the laws of both Westwind and Lornth. While I do not wish to wait, I would think that at noon the day after tomorrow might be best. That way, there will be some notice to the townspeople.”

“Even that will not please Henstrenn and Kelthyn, you know? If you did nothing, they would claim you flouted the laws of Lornth. Now, they will claim that you are a ruthless killer, even of those who flee to you.”

“A ruthless, heartless, killing bitch?” offered Saryn.

“They will not use those words, but that is what they will suggest.”

“So be it. The alternative is worse.”

“All choices for a woman in power are unsuitable. We can only pick the one that does the least damage.”

“That’s true of all rulers, I would think,” Saryn offered, not sure that she believed her own words.

“It is, but the people, and especially the lord-holders, are more willing to forgive men when they make the best of two bad alternatives.”

Saryn silently agreed, but merely asked, “Have you had any word about any of the southern lord-holders?”

“Only a missive from Lord Jharyk of Nuelda. He is greatly concerned because his men have seen Jeranyi riders within a few kays of his lands.”

Saryn frowned, trying to remember where exactly Nuelda was located.

“Nuelda is southwest from here, north of Rohrn and Cardara, and on the old borders with Jerans,” explained Zeldyan. “If I had heard from Jaffrayt or Keistyn, I’d let them use their own armsmen and hope they took heavy losses. But Jharyk has been most loyal to my father…”