Arms-Commander (Saga of Recluce)

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  “Because, like it or not, Commander, you well may be the only one who can,” said Zeldyan gently. “Think upon it carefully.”

  “First, we need to deal with Henstrenn and Keistyn,” replied Saryn, “but I will take your words to heart.”

  “That would please me. I would like to see some good come from all the blood that has been shed.”

  Saryn bowed her head. “I will do what I can, Lady.”

  “I know. If you would not mind… I would like to reflect on matters.”

  “Of course. Until later, then,” replied Saryn, slipping toward the verandah door.

  Maeldyn was waiting on the far side of the verandah as Saryn left the study. “A word or two, Commander, if you would.”

  “Of course.” Saryn smiled pleasantly, although she remained wary, for all that she believed and sensed that the thin-faced lord was trustworthy.

  “What do you want out of all this?” asked Maeldyn. “You, yourself, not Westwind?”

  What should I tell him? And how much? “I have asked myself that question, Lord Maeldyn. I don’t have an easy or a simple answer. I do know that I don’t want women from Lornth fleeing to Westwind because they feel life is intolerable. I’d like to see women in Lornth able to be lord-holders and even overlord… lady-holders or overlady…” She winced. “I can’t say I like the way the last sounds. Lady Zeldyan should be able to hold The Groves without having to find a consort and defer to him. Lord Spalkyn ought to have the right to have one of his daughters succeed him.”

  “Do you think women would do any better as lady-holders, if you will?”

  “Probably not at first, not unless whoever was overlord would back them, but all this fighting between the lord-holders makes no sense, not when Suthya or the Jeranyi would love nothing better than for it to continue to weaken Lornth until they can walk in and take over.”

  “It may be premature, Commander, but if we defeat Henstrenn, how do you think we should select another overlord—or lady?”

  “Gather all the remaining lord-holders who did not revolt and see if they can agree on someone.”

  “And if they cannot?” pressed Maeldyn.

  “I think we would have to see how they cannot agree.” Saryn managed to inject a tone of wryness into her voice.

  “In the end, it will take great strength to hold Lornth together.”

  Saryn didn’t want to deal with that… not yet, even though Zeldyan had already brought up the issue even more directly. “The first problem is to defeat Henstrenn and remove the Suthyan meddling and influence.”

  “That is true, Commander.” Maeldyn smiled. “You are most capable. And you have Lornth’s interests more at heart than many lord-holders. I would like to discuss this matter with you after we deal with Lord Henstrenn. You are correct, I believe, that all the surviving lord-holders should be gathered, but we should discuss a strategy with Spalkyn and Lady Zeldyan before we do.”

  “At that point, we should. I agree.”

  “If you will excuse me, Commander…”

  “I won’t keep you.”

  With a pleasant smile, and one that matched a guarded warmth behind the expression, Maeldyn nodded and walked swiftly in the direction of the barracks.

  Saryn walked more slowly toward the stables, to check on mounts and to talk to Dealdron about the wagons and what supplies they could and should carry. She couldn’t help but think that Maeldyn and Zeldyan were both acting as though their victory were a foregone conclusion. Yet, with chaos-mages supporting Henstrenn, that was anything but a certainty.

  Without shields against chaos-fire-bolts, prevailing against Henstrenn and his allies was unlikely and, even if possible, any victory would likely result in huge casualties that would render success only marginally better than defeat because without a strong force to deal with the other lord-holders, indecision and po liti cal chaos would result. At the same time, her recent efforts with the chaos-order-knives had made it clear that she did not have either the strength or the ability to hold or maintain large shields for long at all.

  Could she do the same thing with her shields as she had with the chaos-order-knives? Make them small and more targeted while sliding the fire-bolts away? Do I have any choice?

  She smiled wryly. Why does trying to do the right thing always involve so much more than you ever think it will? She didn’t have an answer for that question, either.

  She did know that she needed to practice sliding flow shields that could be used against chaos-fire-bolts. She had a day or two to work on that, and she’d probably need every moment.

  LXXXV

  The east road was the longer route to Lornth, but shorter to Duevek, given the westward course of the River Yarth south of Carpa. It was also much drier and dustier, and reddish road dust rose and sifted through everything by midafternoon on fiveday. Saryn had been practicing the skill of making small sliding order-chaos-shields on and off for two days. She thought she had a better technique that took less effort, but how long she could keep that up was another question once they got into battle.

  “If it’s this dusty farther south,” Saryn said to Spalkyn, riding to her right, “Henstrenn will see us from kays away.”

  “Duevek sits on a bend in the river, with hills to the north. It’s not as dry there, but the hills would shield us from view until the last five kays or so. By then, it shouldn’t matter. One way or another, he’ll know. He still has those mages, and some mages can tell from a distance when people are coming. He must suspect we’ll attack, anyway, and he will have posted scouts on the roads.”

  Did Saryn’s ability to sense people from a distance make her a mage? Hryessa had as much as said that, but Saryn certainly couldn’t throw fire bolts.

  From what she recalled, Duevek sat on a hill overlooking the main southern road from the Westhorns into Lornth, but she’d only seen the keep from the road below and from a distance. “What is the holding like?”

  “I only saw it once, as a very young man,” returned Spalkyn. “It’s on top of a low hill or rise, and it overlooks the town and the River Yarth. The Yarth is narrower there, but still not an easy crossing. The villa is all one story and extensive, but it is set within rather large and solid walls. So are all the outbuildings. The walls must be a good eight cubits high and two or three thick.”

  Cannon would definitely help here, but with white wizards on the other side, they’d likely use chaos to blow the powder. She frowned. Is that why they never pursued gunpowder or the like? Or was the reason simply lost in all the centuries since the old Rats colonized Cyador? “What about the gates?”

  “The usual for a fortified keep. Heavy planks, backed with timber, and ironbound. The pivots and hinges are all protected by the walls.”

  “So they swing inward?”

  “Unless you have a moat and a drawbridge, what choice is there?” Spalkyn’s question was clearly rhetorical.

  Saryn wasn’t about to get into portcullises and sliding slot gates and the like. She just nodded, idly wondering if she could use her order-chaos in some way against the gates. You can’t use it for everything. You’re not strong enough or talented enough for that. Again, it would be pick and choose… and hope that her choices were the right ones. “What if he just retreats inside the walls?”

  “It’s not as defensible as Masengyl, but I doubt Henstrenn will want a siege. He wants a victory, and sitting behind walls doesn’t make him a leader. That would just erode his support.”

  Given the brashness seemingly revered by the southern lord-holders, Saryn could see that.

  “Also, he can’t get his harvest in. So… if he stays inside the walls, we just start to burn fields until he comes out. If he doesn’t come out, he loses it all, and that will weaken him both in the wallet and in terms of support with both his own people and the other lords.”

  Saryn hadn’t thought of going that far, but she could see the possibilities. Still… Henstrenn was the type to sacrifice anything and anyone to his ambitions.r />
  “I’m glad you had those wagons. We can carry more rations,” said Spalkyn. “The spare mounts you captured from Jaffrayt and Kelthyn also help.”

  With Spalkyn’s words about the wagons, Saryn couldn’t help but think about Hryessa’s comments about Dealdron. While she had meant to talk to him on threeday, what with one thing and another, somehow she hadn’t gotten around to it. Was that because you really didn’t want to?

  Finally, while Maeldyn and Spalkyn were checking with their arms-men, Saryn rode back to the rear of the column, where, amid the road dust, Dealdron was driving the first of the five supply wagons. There she eased the gelding alongside the wagon.

  “How are the drafts holding up?”

  “So far, so good, Commander.”

  “And the wagons?”

  “There’s one axle on the third wagon that’s a trace unsteady, but it’s holding so far. We have spares and extra wheels.”

  “You’ve thought that out.”

  “Wouldn’t be much help if I hadn’t,” he replied with a grin, looking to the team.

  “You’ve been a great help wherever you’ve been,” Saryn said with a light laugh. “Even when you could barely walk with that heavy support and splint.”

  “You made it clear I should be.” Dealdron’s tone was on the edge of banter, and there was no sense of resentment.

  “You don’t sound too upset.”

  The younger man shrugged. “You made me think about things differently.”

  As he replied, Saryn realized something else. Dealdron’s speech was better than it had been when he had first come to Westwind. “You’ve gone out of your way to arrange matters for me,” she said carefully, although she did not sense any of the other teamsters in the wagon, even out of sight. “I appreciate it. I truly do.”

  Dealdron smiled easily, and she could sense a certain amusement behind the expression before he replied. “You’d like to know why? Is that why you’re here?”

  “I’m curious,” she admitted, wondering why she felt so guarded, but perhaps that was because she’d always had difficulty reading more than his surface feelings.

  “You do your best to protect everyone else. You protected me from the Marshal. I didn’t see anyone else protecting you when you were ready to drop from the saddle. I don’t have very good arms skills, but I can make sure of… other things.”

  She smiled. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

  Dealdron looked at her and smiled warmly. “Thank you for telling me.”

  “You deserve it. I should have said more earlier.” After a moment, she said, “I need to head back.”

  As she rode back to the front of the column, she could feel his eyes on her back, again, and a certain sense of worry and concern emanating from him. She couldn’t help but feel touched, but she also worried that, in some way, he was putting her on a pedestal, and that he really didn’t understand how much death and destruction she’d created.

  Why should that bother you?

  That was another question she didn’t really want to answer.

  Why? Because you might care for him? Because you really don’t want to come off that pedestal?

  And those were questions she also didn’t want to answer.

  LXXXVI

  Sevenday morning brought Saryn and the forces of the other three lord-holders to a position just beyond the hills north of Duevek. Maeldyn’s and Spalkyn’s armsmen were in the lead, with Saryn and the others riding behind the scouts and in front of the northern lords’ lead squad. The green-blue sky was clear of clouds, but a faint silvery haze cut the light from the white sun just enough that the day was slightly cooler than those that had preceded it. As Spalkyn had predicted, Henstrenn had followed their progress in some fashion because a squad of armsmen was reined up on the section of road a half a kay beyond the last of the hills, waiting under a parley banner.

  Saryn could sense no other armsmen nearby, nor did the outriders and scouts see any others. After making a scan with her order-senses, she sent her own first squad forward under Shalya to see what the Duevekan force wanted. Maeldyn, Spalkyn, and Zeldyan waited on their mounts with Saryn while first squad rode out, then returned.

  “Sers,” said Shalya, reining up before the group, “the squad leader was here to deliver messages to Lord Maeldyn, Lord Spalkyn, and the commander.” She eased her mount forward and handed a sealed envelope to Maeldyn, then one to Spalkyn, and the last to Saryn. “He said he was instructed to wait for a response, but no longer than a glass.”

  “If you would leave us to consider,” Saryn said.

  “Yes, ser.” The squad leader rode a good fifty yards farther up the road to where first squad waited.

  “I see that there is no missive for me,” observed Zeldyan. “That alone is a message.”

  “Shall we see what stratagems Henstrenn has in mind?” asked Maeldyn sardonically. “Besides the obvious one of divide and conquer?” He held up the envelope, then slit it open with a belt knife.

  Saryn didn’t bother with a knife, but broke the seal on hers with her fingers, then extracted the single sheet of parchment, opened it, and began to read.

  Commander—

  You and your beliefs are not welcome in Lornth, and never will be. For all the death and destruction you have caused, none here will ever forget or forgive. Yet, for all that, if you and your forces immediately break off this conflict, none will pursue you or attack Westwind.

  Remain here, and all that you are and hold dear will be forfeit, and you will be hounded and harried by all west of the Westhorns, as will Westwind itself, for all the years of all the generations to come.

  The signature was that of Henstrenn, and under it was a seal—that of the Overlord of Lornth.

  Does he really believe he can do that? Saryn shook her head. Regardless of whether she was successful against Henstrenn, there was no way that Lornth had the resources to hound and harry Westwind, precarious as Westwind’s position might be, for year after year. Is it designed to get me so angry that I’ll do something incredibly stupid?

  She finally glanced up and looked to the other two lord-holders. Maeldyn smiled ruefully. They waited for Spalkyn to finish reading his missive.

  The heavyset Lord of Palteara lowered the parchment, then fingered his square-cut brown beard, finally shaking his head. “The presumptive Overlord of Lornth has offered me his daughter as a consort for my son and a pardon for my actions against him as lawful Overlord of Lornth. What did he offer you, Maeldyn?”

  “Lord Keistyn’s younger son as consort for my daughter. Of course, he’s but eight, but he didn’t mention that. Oh… and a pardon that won’t mean much because, sooner or later, I’ll be poisoned or suffer some sort of accident.”

  “And you, Commander?” asked Maeldyn.

  “The wrath of all Lornth no matter what I do, but neutrality with regard to Westwind if I depart the lands of Lornth immediately.”

  “Not exactly the most enticing of offers,” mused Spalkyn. “None of them.”

  “They weren’t meant to be,” replied Maeldyn. “They’re meant as justifications after we refuse them and are defeated and slaughtered so that he can say he offered us full redemption of some sort.”

  “Then we had best make sure that we do not lose.” Spalkyn laughed.

  “His messenger is waiting,” Maeldyn pointed out. “I think we should make him wait longer while we compose particularly irritating replies. Since we have no real choice, it cannot hurt to make him angrier. He doesn’t think as well as he believes he does when he is upset.”

  “That may be,” replied Spalkyn, “but I don’t happen to carry parchment and pen on long rides to battle.”

  “I do have a pen and ink,” said Maeldyn, “and I believe it will be acceptable to reply on the reverse of what he used.”

  While Maeldyn was writing his response, Saryn rode forward to where first squad waited and reined up beside Shalya.

  “Ser?”

  “Send out a few scout
s, away from the road. I don’t want anyone sneaking up on us while we reply to Lord Henstrenn.”

  “Yes, ser.”

  As Saryn rode back toward Maeldyn and the others, she again tried to sense whether anyone was hiding nearby… or even approaching. So far as she could tell, no one was nearby, not besides their force and the parley squad.

  Once she reined up, she reread Henstrenn’s insulting note once more and mentally worked on a response until Maeldyn passed her the pen. Writing in the saddle with what amounted to a quill and an inkwell wasn’t exactly easy, but she managed to write out her reply without any terrible errors or ink blots, then read it over one last time.

  My dear Lord Henstrenn:

  One really should not make threats that one cannot carry out. Such threats have a tendency to make your betters irritated, and such irritation can only redound to your disadvantage. Your attitude toward women is also unacceptable, and the time will come sooner than you believe that you will have to deal with women more powerful than you. Needless to say, your offer is neither practical nor acceptable.

  She signed what she had written, then held it for a time to dry. As she folded the sheet and slipped it back into the envelope, she frowned. Something wasn’t right. She was sensing a fuzziness somewhere to her left… an almost-chaotic swirling, although she could see nothing.

  That wasn’t right. It was as though her eyes slid away from that patch of bushes that were barely waist high. She thrust the envelope inside her tunic.

  “Maeldyn! Spalkyn! Use your armsmen to make the parley squad surrender or cut them down! Using a parley squad to conceal an attack voids any truce!” Saryn turned the gelding and rode back toward Shalya. “First squad! On me! Tight formation!”

  Then she rode toward what she thought was the chaos–concealment shield, gathering and weaving order and chaos flows together, even while she drew one of the blades from the knee sheath, rather than from the easier-to-reach battle harness. Behind her, first squad formed a tight wedge. That was a gamble, because a tight formation would suffer greater losses if Saryn’s shields failed, but she couldn’t protect a wider formation.