L. Modesitt - Arms-Commander

“I’ll be there shortly. In fact, I’ll go there now.”

“She is awaiting you in her private study. She said to tell you she has refreshments.”

“Thank you.” Dealdron did say I needed to eat. That thought brought another smile to her lips as she entered the palace.

The guard outside Zeldyan’s third-level study resolutely looked away as Saryn approached and knocked.

“Yes?”

“Saryn, at your request.”

“Please come in.”

Saryn entered, closing the door behind her.

Zeldyan rose and moved from the small writing table to the conference table on which were three platters, a carafe of red wine, and two goblets. “Welcome back.” She gestured toward the table.

“Thank you.” Saryn took the seat across from the regent.

Zeldyan filled both goblets before she spoke, lifting hers. “To your safe return.”

Saryn merely nodded, then sipped the wine and lowered the goblet.

Zeldyan set her goblet down and looked directly at Saryn. “Your message stated that you had dispatched the company of Jeranyi that had been raiding Lord Jharyk’s lands. After that success, why did you not return personally with the message? Lord Henstrenn, Lord Kelthyn, and Lord Keistyn have joined with most of the lords of the south in demanding an end to my regency. They have sent a document that demands that I immediately leave Lornth and return Nesslek to their custody.”

“I knew something of the sort.”

“Oh? And you did not return?”

“No, Lady. I was involved in destroying Lord Orsynn’s three companies. They were riding northward in the direction of Lornth. I asked Lord Orsynn to pledge his allegiance to the regency. He refused and attacked. He, two of his sons, and his forces are no more.”

“They are no more?” Zeldyan raised her eyebrows. “They will reform under some other lord.”

“No.” Saryn shook her head. “All but thirty died. Twenty were Jeranyi who started to flee before the battle began. We captured ten others.”

“You slaughtered almost three hundred men?”

Saryn shrugged. “I could have abandoned you, or I could slaughter them. Those were the choices.”

Zeldyan paled. “How terrible you angels are.”

“How long do you think your son would live in the custody of Henstrenn or Keistyn?” Saryn said quietly. “How long before your supporters were removed, one way or another?”

“I have barely a company left here to hold Lornth, and they could not stand against you alone. And so I must rely, more and more, upon you?”

“We have few choices,” replied Saryn, “either of us.”

“You would fight your battles on our lands.”

“We would prefer to fight no battles, Lady. If we must fight, we fight where we can. What would you have us do? Leave you and the regency to fall, then destroy your enemies later at an even higher cost to both lands? We cannot allow them to destroy Westwind, and that is what they wish.”

Zeldyan lifted her goblet and took a small swallow, then picked up one of the small pastries and ate it.

Saryn picked up one of them and chewed it, a miniature fowl pie, somewhat dry. She took and ate a second, somewhat warmer and juicier, then sipped the wine, waiting for the regent to speak.

“I would that you had never alighted upon the Roof of the World,” Zeldyan finally said.

“Our choice was to land there or die. We did not attack anyone.” Saryn paused, thinking back. The only times she had ever attacked first, she realized, were when she had dealt with the Gallosian false bandits and the Jeranyi attacking Lord Jharyk’s lands, and in both cases, the enemy had attacked others first. Yet everyone seemed to believe that she was some sort of evil destroyer.

“That matters not. Your presence was an attack.”

The way in which your men treat women and anyone they see as lesser is an attack on us… But there wasn’t any use in raising that point. “What is done is done. What can we do now? Who has what forces and where are they? Do you know?”

“Lord Mortryd of Tryenda is the only other lord in the south professing loyalty to the regency, but he is being threatened by Rherhn of Khalasn, whose forces have entered his lands. Mortryd has a small holding, and he has written that he has barely one company of armsmen, and many of those he has had to call away from the harvest…”

Saryn mentally called up the map she had memorized, and visualized the geographic positions. Tryenda was a narrow holding south of Lornth, sandwiched between Hasel and Khalasn, and with its north border adjoining the southern border of Nesslek’s holding of Lornth. “What about Keistyn? His lands border Tryenda on the east.”

“Mortryd’s missive was quite clear. Lord Rherhn has always coveted the bottomlands of Tryenda and apparently sees the present unrest as an opportunity.”

“How long a ride to Tryenda-the holding keep, that is?”

“It’s on the north end of the holding. A day and a half easy ride.”

“Do you want to get involved?” asked Saryn.

“He’s promised his company to support the regency, but he won’t leave his lands with Rherhn threatening him.”

“So he wants the assurance,” said Saryn dryly, “that you can and will support him before he’ll back you and the regency.”

“Exactly.”

“Is it worth it for a single company?”

“If he throws in with Kelthyn and Keistyn, that’s a difference of two companies. Also, some of the northern lords may question whether we will support them if they have few armsmen. Henstrenn would certainly trumpet that everywhere.”

“And what if it’s a trap or a ruse to get your forces out of Lornth?”

Zeldyan looked at Saryn.

“Ah…you want me to take care of it so that you can hold Lornth without risking what you have here.”

“If it is a ruse, you can return quickly. If not, you can return with Mortryd’s forces. If it is an attempt to engage your forces, there is certainly no reason for you to fight unless circumstances are favorable.”

“Do you know where Keistyn’s forces are?”

“One company was sighted near Veryna, joining up with Kelthyn’s men. They could not return to Tryenda in less than four days.”

Worse and worse.

“Most of the lands are entering harvest. They can’t bring all their forces into line for several eightdays. After that…” Zeldyan shrugged.

“So we need to straighten out the mess between Rherhn and Mortryd before everyone jumps in?” The guards and I have to, not you. At least, we have enough horses to switch them out and take fresh mounts.

“I fear so.”

“We will still need at least a half day to prepare.” Even if I take fourth squad this time. “In return, I want assurances of at least ten full wagons of supplies to be sent to Westwind before the late-fall snows.”

“What of friendship?” Zeldyan’s voice carried irony.

“I think I’ve demonstrated that amply, Lady. We beat back Suthyans in the north, destroyed two squads of Lord Henstrenn’s men, broke a company of Jeranyi, and eliminated three companies of Lord Orsynn’s men. By warning you about the Suthyans, the Marshal lost the chance to trade for food with them. Friendship goes two ways, does it not?”

“I cannot send food to Westwind until the revolt is crushed…”

“I know. The roads go through Hasel, Duevek, and a corner of Fhasta. I just want your pledge.” And I will hold you to it.

“You have it.”

“Tell me more about Lord Mortryd and Tryenda,” Saryn said, finally taking another pair of the miniature pastry pies.

Much later, as she left the regent’s study, more questions swirled through Saryn’s mind. She’d been able to prevail against the Lornians, the Jeranyi, and the Suthyans only through her use of order and chaos, and she’d been even more fortunate that years before, Nylan and Ayrlyn had destroyed all those in Lornth and Gallos who might have challenged her-except for the Gallosian mages buried in the landslide, and she had not had to get close to them. What could she do if someone used either order or chaos-or both-against her? She’d barely managed against the Suthyan hedge mage, and he was nothing compared to the white mages she recalled who had attacked Nylan.